Ledesma, Spain (Part 1)

I arrived in Ledesma around 2:30 after connecting to a different bus in Salamanca. The first thing I noticed when I arrived was I had no idea where I was going. Not to fear, relying on my innate sense of direction I started walking... in the wrong direction. But eventually I figured out where I was and proceeded to the Plaza Mayor (and why not) where my helpx host is presumed to reside.

When I reached the Plaza Mayor I was more confused than when I originally landed in the city as the address I had did not have any numbers, however, all of the houses on the street did. After several unsuccessful attempts to ask passerby's where my destination was, I finally found a man who indicated the "palacio" I was searching for and noted that the man who lives there was not at home and would not be back until 7 or 8pm. He did, very graciously, also note that he drives a black car (una coche negro). It was 3pm.

I should note at this point that when I emailed Ron (my host) to tell him I was arriving Wednesday instead of Thursday or Friday as I had originally said, I neglected to tell him I was planning to take the early buses to arrive around mid-day. As such, in his return email he assumed I would be on the late bus and said he would expect me after 7. Ergo, this small snafu was completely my fault.

So there I stood at a fork in the road. I could either: (a) stand in the cool windy (and notably completely empty) Plaza Mayor waiting for the return of the coche negro like a sad puppy; or (b) find a place to sit down and perhaps have some food and drink. I'll give you two guesses which one I did and the first one doesn't count... Wait, that doesn't make any sense, but obviously I went in search of a place to hang out.

I stumbled across the Casa Rural Ristorante, a humble charming little place where the hosts spoke fluent English. Psyche! No, this is Ledesma, no one speaks English here. But they were very kind and gracious and walked me through my menu options as best I could understand. Moreover, they informed me that free wifi was available... so guess where this blog segment was written? Bingo.

I decided on the "menu" option or 3 course meal and opted for a soup of ham, beef, white beans, artichoke, green beans, carrots and some other vegis (outstanding!), fried pig that thankfully came face-free (I got my lechon after all- and it was great!), and finally a flan (also very good). The meal also came with vino y agua- which I assumed meant a glass of wine and a glass of water. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awarded with not a glass of wine but an entire bottle of Ribera del Duero.

Which brings me to a question that apparently people on Facebook thought was rhetorical. When presented with an entire bottle of wine (botella de vino), is it rude not to finish it? I really have no idea what to do here and I certainly don't want to be rude to these wonderful people. Then again, I don't want to show up hammered at this place I'm supposed to be volunteering. I could google it, but I'm also trying to not actively seek out answers but just try and feel my way along- I find it's more fun and surprising that way. I think the answer is to sit here and slowly drink the wine until either a decision is formulated or I run out of wine.

A funny moment from my wine-fueled afternoon: I meant to tell the owner "I am a little bit drunk" but instead of "estoy un poco borracho" I said "soy un borracho pequeno" which means "I am a tiny drunk man." Que se confundieron. Y yo tambien.

After my fun Spanish speaking bottle of wine induced afternoon I proceeded back to the palacio just as my host Ron was arriving. I should point out that he in fact drives a white car and not a black car, so I would have been standing there all day and not even known it was him. We went upstairs and over a cup of tea he introduced me to the other visitors- Ingrid, an old friend of his from London, and Bernard and Deb, who were his neighbors 15 or so years ago back in England. I was the only helpx'er among those staying at the moment.

Over tea we began the first (of so far many) philosophical/political/social/etc. discussions, this one over the Occupy Wall Street Movement and other such protests in general. I won't bore you with the details but suffice it to say we discussed for many hours, during which we drank wine and ate steak and chips. Finally around 1am it was time to go to bed. Below is a picture of the main socializing room where tea and dinner were had and the bed which I will be occupying for around a week or so. In all, my host is a very kind man and so far I am enjoying his and the other visitors' company immensely.

On the way to Ledesma

I awoke at 6:30 in Segovia to shower, pack, pay for the room, and make my way to the bus station. Yes, I said bus station. As I rode the 7:30 bus from Segovia to Avila and then on to Salamanca, I came to realize something. The past 48 hours had really embodied the dramatic shift in my way of approaching the world.

In my formative schooling and university days I was a relatively cheap person, but I was also somewhat reserved in my desire to take risks. Then, as I attained gainful employment, I was able to do more things. Because I had the money to pay for it, however, I wouldn't consider going about it in any fashion that required me to go out of my way or that would impose a challenge that couldn't be overcome by the simple application of money.

For example, I refused to ride buses. I never really had a good reason except that I rode them all throughout my childhood and had a bad experience on one coming back from DC; nothing warranting swearing them off completely. But if there was a train or plane available to get me from A to Z, I would gladly pay the upcharge to avoid being "subjected to" a bus. Similarly, the thought of backpacking/camping, staying in a hostel (even if I had my own room), or hitchhiking to get where I wanted to go in a pinch, were all unfathomable options in the past. I worked, I had cash, why not reap the benefits? That was my mentality.

So it occurred to me that this whole transient retirement program has already evoked a stark paradigm shift in my modus operandi. Or, in other words, I no longer see things the same way as my gainfully employed self, but rather accept circumstances for how they are, and, as my friend Kev says, have come to embrace the unknown and all possibilities therein. As I touched on in an earlier post, I think that's really the key to embarking on a trip like this. The more interesting thought to consider is, how will this change in thought process translate to my regular life when the traveling is inevitably done? Seriously, how far can I take this?

When I was creating my list of 150+ things to do before heading off on this trip, one of the last things I wrote was "charge everything," which was of course a note to make sure my laptop, camera, phone, etc. were all charged prior to my flight. But if you've ever had the misfortune of receiving something written by me, you'll know my handwriting is atrocious. So every time I looked at it, I read it as "change everything." And as I do more and more of these things that are totally out of my former realm of comfort, I find myself repeating that as a sort of mantra.

Change everything.

Ok, well... maybe not everything. It would be a shame to lose my rougishly handsome good looks.

Segovia, Spain

As you probably gathered from my last post, the hike through the Sierra de Guadarrama was a bit taxing, and as you could imagine, my touring of Segovia was done slowly and tenderly. That said, Segovia is a beautiful city. It reminds me a great deal of Sienna, Italy only better because I actually had time to explore it! Unfortunately, the cold, wind, and rain continues to follow me around and was exceptionally evident in Segovia. I must be the Johnny Appleseed of spring in Spain. Everywhere I go I take the cold and replace it with sunshine!

Anyway, Segovia is a tremendous little town. One thing I really wanted to do on this trip is seek out some less-traveled destinations. Everyone I've met traveling in Spain so far says the same things "I'm going to Madrid, Barcelona, Grenada, Sevilla..." It's rather annoying. When I responded that I was hiking the Sierra de Guadarrama to Segovia the most common response I get is a blank stare. The second most common response is "Where? Is that in Spain?" Come on people! Americans are supposed to be the ones bad at geography!

But if you find yourself in Segovia, and for your sake I hope you find yourself there when it's warm, the main attraction is of course the aqueduct. Built by the Romans over 2000 years ago, this monolith towers over one the main squares in the city, reaching a peak height of 28 meters (91 feet). My tour guide in Madrid jokingly stated that the Romans built it just to remind the Spanish who was in charge. In reality it fed filtered water into the walled old city which was fortified by the castle on the far western end (we'll get to that).

If you walk west from the aqueduct you'll notice several things. One, beautiful winding streets with charming shops and restaurants as well as sweeping views of the city below when you approach the walled edges of the cliff. Second, the massive cathedral just off the Plaza Mayor. This big-guy was started in the 1500's when the old cathedral burned down, and in typical Spanish fashion, took around 200 years to complete. Can you imagine if you were in a family of stone masons and you, your father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, and great-great-great-grandfather all cut and laid stone for the same building... and it still wasn't done?!

Finally, you have the castle which sits imposingly on the edge of a massive rock outcropping on the west end of the city. They claim this castle was the inspiration for the Walt Disney Castle. But I heard that same spiel when visiting Neuschwanstein and I imagine I'll hear it a few more times as I check out the castles of Romania. So take that with a grain of salt.

Inside the castle is a museum of arms from all ages including some full scale mock-ups of knights in armor on horseback. I was expecting Angela Lansbury to come storming in at any moment animating everything with the substitutiary locomotion spell and wage war on the Germans (Bedknobs and Broomsticks reference, bam!). To get to the top of the tower required a climb of 152 steps, which, albeit not very fun for my sore feet, was well worth it for the view of the city.

After doing the walking tour of the city, I was starving and I had seen pizzerias everywhere. So as the American Pizza Ambassador to the world, it was my duty to sample some Spanish pizza. And where better than a small town? So I ducked into a little place and ordered up a pie and a beer while I uploaded photos and messed around on the computer. In summary, the pizza was ok, the beer was cold. Nothing special but not terrible either. In Spain I'd say stick with the cured meats, cheeses, and seafood unless you can find a Neapolitan transplant operating an authentic pie joint. For the sake of sample size, I'm sure I'll have to try at least one more though... ha.

As night rolled around I walked around to check out the scene. Sad to say that there didn't appear to be much going on. Perhaps it was because it was a Tuesday night, and it was early April, and it was cold and rainy, and it was only 8:30, but there didn't seem to be much bar or restaurant happenings on my side of town (despite a large number of venues). That said, I really wanted to try the roast suckling pig, however, after consulting with my hosts at the hostel, I determined that: (1) I had no idea how to eat it properly (do I eat the face? how embarrassing!); (2) there was no way I could eat a whole one and I hate wasting food; and (3) they are expensive! So, not very hungry after my pizza snack, I swung by the supermarket only to discover... the cheapest booze prices in the universe!

Ok, maybe that's an exaggeration, but they had liters of vodka for 4 euro and whole bottles of red wine for 1 euro or less. The most expensive bottle of wine I could find was 4 euro! What in the heck was I paying 2.50 euro for a beer for?? I had wanted to try some local red wine anyway, so for 2.50 euro I acquired a nice bottle and retired to the hotel for the evening. In all it was probably for the best as I had a 7:30am bus to Avila then Salamanca then a 1:30 bus to Ledesma where my volunteering adventure shall begin. Olé!

Sierra de Guadarrama

haHA, Birdman! I made it! But let me say, it was not easy. For those considering hiking through the Sierra de Guadarrama, let me proffer this piece of advice: don't. Ok, so for those who REALLY want to anyway (no idea who might be as crazy as me to want to do this), let me offer the following practical advice: (1) don't go in early April! As you'll see from the pictures, there is still a ton of snow all over the mountains and it is below freezing at night. I'd recommend late may or early June; (2) wear sunblock in la Pedriza (there is no shade and even in April you will get toasted);

(3) plan for three days and leave early on day 1 (I unfortunately left Manzanares el Real at noon). Your first day should take you to Puerto de Navacerrada (peak of the route to Segovia - about 25km), then stay in a hotel (I would not recommend free camping as described below). The second day, leave your pack and do a day hike to Los Cotos where you can enter the Peñalara National Park and summit Peñalara (the highest peak) itself (about 15km), then hike back to the hotel for another good night's sleep. On day three, hike the remaining 28km downhill and through the plain to Segovia; and (4) bring plenty of water for leg 1 because it is hot and you may run out!

In all, however, hiking the Sierra de Guadarrama was pretty awesome. It was clear as soon as I started up the serious elevation that the Spanish people were also impressed by my bravado. Not only did I not see another hiker on the supposed pilgrimage trail I was following, but the driver of every third car that passed me turned and looked at me with an expression that conveyed "what the hell are you doing hiking here at this time of year?!?" I'm sure they would have been even more impressed/horrified had they realized my original intent was to hike directly up and over them using the old Roman trails. However, as soon as I got out of Madrid my pulse quickened as I saw what appeared to be snow on the mountains. Upon arriving in Manzanares el Real, my fears were confirmed:


So, the next plan was to go to the tourism office, get a map, and come up with an alternative route that would take me to Segovia but not directly up through the worst of the snow. When I got to the tourism office, I was aghast to discover that it was closed and would not be open again until the following Saturday. Outside of the tourism office were the following "maps/directions" to Segovia from Manzanares el Real. Needless to say, not incredibly helpful.


As it turns out, this route is used as part of the pilgrimage Camino de Santiago although I may have jumped on/off it here and there along the way. In total it was a little over 50km (32mi) from Manzanares el Real to Segovia with an ascent of around 1000m and corresponding decent. The first 10km was relatively flat heading into La Pedriza where there is very little shade and the sun beats the heck out of you. Have lots of water!

The next 15km is entirely uphill on your way from Cerceda up to Puerto de Navacerrada at the peak of the pass. I made it 20km on day 1 and had to stop 5km shy of PdN because I was out of water, exhausted from the constant sun, and it was already 6PM and I was worried I wouldn't find anywhere else. I stopped at what looked like land allocated for day hiking/etc. however had a sign indicating private property. Although I didn't see a "no camping" sign specifically, it is generally frowned upon to camp on private land so I was weary of staying. But then I saw the game changer: a natural spring fountain. So I whipped out the UV purifying CamelBak (paid for itself on this one occasion alone!) and boom! Fresh cool spring water.


I sneakily waited for the people walking their dogs or themselves up the trail to leave the vicinity and scurried up the mountain into the woods to find a place to set up shop. The mountain was incredibly steep and the best I could find was a little V-shaped area between some trees. Not level at all but better than a 25-30 degree slope.


Everything went fine at first and I fell asleep at dusk, only to awake around what must have been midnight to the sound of what I could only assume was someone approaching my tent and then the sound of my flaps and poles being messed with. I froze and for the next 20-30 minutes I lay perfectly still expecting a guerrilla soldier leftover from the Spanish Civil War to collapse my tent, stab me to death, and rob me. Finally, I summoned the courage to open the tent and clutching a flashlight in one hand and open hunting knife in the other I sprang from the tent into the 20 degree night in a t-shirt and gym shorts.

Obviously as no one was there, I made a plea to the spirits of the forest in Spanish (only I said "trees" because I didn't know the word for forest) to spare me for one night and that I would be on my way in the morning. I emphasized "no fuego" which I hoped would appease them. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep the rest of the night, alternating between shaking from the absurd cold and the fear of being stabbed to death if I nodded off. As soon as daybreak arrived, I packed up my gear and was on my way- thankful to be spared by the forest.

The next 5km were up to the top and PdN. The view was glorious and I could also see the snow-covered summit which I thankfully decided not to attempt. From there the next 5km were sharply downhill in Castille y Leon and were engulfed in a thick, moist, frigid fog. Finally, the fog broke and after lunch of jamon, queso, y pan (2nd day in a row), I made my way down through the foothills of the mountains and into the areas described in For Whom the Bell Tolls. I could almost see Robert Jordan trekking through the woods. I even found a bridge remiscent of the one he's required to destroy at the end of the novel. Anyway, it was just as Hemingway described and worth the hiking pilgrimage to see. (See flickr for all the photos).

My Hemingway pilgrimages being completed in the past few days, it was time to power through the hike. 6km more and I was in San Ildefonso. From there I could see Segovia in the distance- approximately 11km left to go. Feet, shoulders and back hurting, I decided I'd rather push on and sleep in a real bed than tempt the forest spirits again, so I set my jaw and went to work. Hiking through this area was starkly different from the beautiful forests of Sierra de Guadarrama. I dubbed it "Spanish Transylvania."


After 5km more, I took a brief respite in a parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. According to thee signs I was only 2km away from Segovia. For those of you counting, you should be as confused as I was. In fact, it was 2km to the city limits, but an additional 4km to the city center. Bastards! So for the next 4.5km I'm walking this endless trail marked "Segovia" but there's no city. In actuality, there was nothing but an endless slightly uphill road... oh, and just to make it fun, the temperature dropped 15 degrees F and gale force winds and rains began to kick up. Awesome!

After another brief stop, I realized I was only 2km from the city center. Time to nut up or shut up. So I slung on the pack and smashed out the last 2km in the rain and wind, arriving in the city center soaking wet and completely out of gas. I had done over 20 miles.

Thankfully, very close to the aqueduct I found Hostel Don Jaime. They had a single room open for 32 euros but frankly I would have paid 60 just to get out of the cold and rain. A hot shower and hanging up all my drenched gear later and I was ready to go get some celebratory food and beers. However, my jacket and everything else was still soaked. Not having many other options and being exhausted, I just went to bed. Slept 14 hours. Hail the conquering hero.

In all, I really had no idea if I could do this. I had no map, no real idea for the climate or terrain, and no idea of the hostility of the forest/locals. But I felt it was something I needed to do and so, doing what any intrepid traveler would do, I imposed my will upon it. Now I see why people love to do marathons or want to summit Everest. To be able to say, "you threw everything you had at me and I still beat you." That's a tremendous feeling.

Madrid, Spain

As of tomorrow morning I will leave the first destination on my wanderlust tour: Madrid. It's been a super-awesome-totally-badass time. I've always traveled with someone else on my international trips and being able to travel alone has made me realize how much I allow myself to lean on or be influenced by the other person, for both good and bad. But on this trip- it's been up to me. Speaking the language, meeting new people, deciding what to do. And I must say: it's freaking AWESOME! My Spanish has improved 20-fold in the past 4 days. But if I wasn't here by myself being forced to use it, I'd be coasting along blah blah blah.

Also, I never thought a city could match or surpass my ability to party. Well, congratulations Madrid, you have snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. People in Madrid will party you into the ground, get up, and keep on partying. I haven't been to sleep before 5am a single night here. And when I leave a club/bar at 5-6am, it's usually still filled with people. The motto is: party till you coma. Madrid, I salute you!

Now most people are very divided about Madrid vs. Barcelona. "Oh, Madrid is ok but Barcelona is way better," yatta yatta yatta. But I'm going to refrain from anything until I have visited both. But for now, te amo. My liver- no se gusta.

I got in Thursday night around 8pm and within 15 minutes of checking into Hostel One, I was already playing a drinking game with some girls from Canada, a brother and sister from Costa Rica, and a guy from London. And this has pretty much continued unabated for the past 4 days, albeit with an ever-changing cast of characters. Tonight, having beers in the hostel and getting my act together for tomorrow is the calmest most relaxing evening I've experienced.

On Friday afternoon (post all-night bar crawl) we did the free walking tour. Manu, Marissa, and Ashan from the hostel were there. Here is a picture of Manu drinking this tea-like beverage which was actually pretty good.

In the middle of the tour we had a break for churros and chocolate, which is hot chocolate but has the flavor and viscosity of molten milk chocolate. So... super rich. Drinking it is like drinking... a chocolaty clam chowder. But if you like sweets, Chocolateria San Gines is the place to go in Madrid.

At night we did a tapas tour which was not really worth the money but we did learn a considerable amount about the history of tapas. In the middle of the tour we were interrupted by the Easter procession which would move about 5-10 feet and then stop for 5-10 minutes and so on.

Friday night we went out to bars and bars and then clubs and then I ended up at this other Irish bar until 6am mixing it up with some Czech girls and Spanish and German F-18 fighter pilots who were, astonishingly, the 4th and 5th people to be convinced (upon hearing what/why I am doing here) that I am a spy. Or maybe it's just my name. Anyway, I nearly parlayed myself into a F-18 rear-seat flight, and definitely parlayed myself into the graces of the Czech Republic.

Saturday I slept in (had only slept 4 hours since Tuesday) and then walked the Parque de El Retiro, seeing some unique entertainers and soaking in the first bit of sunlight since arriving in Madrid (it hailed all day on Thursday!). Saturday night we decided to do a pub crawl with the good folks at the hostel. It was one of those 10 euro gets you 45 minutes unlimited drinks and then a free shot at each bar-type deal. At bar #2, we noticed there was a guy in a sombrero at an outdoor bar hawking tequila shots. Lock city.

Owen from the hostel and I went over and slammed a few shots of aguardiente and then began chatting with some girls from Galicia (north-western Spain). We were impressive with our complete lack of knowledge of the Spanish language, my committal to absurd phrasing such as "quierro una langosta mas rapida," and our adherence to the belief that Estrella Galicia is the best beer in Spain. As the group was leaving, our girl friends demanded some pictures with the hombre in el sombrero:

Today (Sunday) I got up after another late late night and saw El Rastro (crazy flea market), Museo de el Prado (for some Goya-inspired depression), and then back to the hotel for a siesta. At 6pm we went to Las Ventras to see the Easter bullfight.

Bullfighting in Spain is a very touchy subject. People here are very opinionated about it and most keep said opinions to themselves. As a foreigner who has now been only to one bullfight I don't feel entitled to have a real opinion. I will say, however, that it was an experience unlike any other. And I can see why people such as Hemingway could be so moved to write Death in the Afternoon extolling the virtues, and also why people could be so steadfast against it.

In all, Madrid was tremendous. Tomorrow I head to Manzanares el Real to begin my hike through the Sierra de Guadarrama. Today I stopped by Museo del Jamon (museum of ham) which is basically just a really cool deli to purchase meat, cheese, and bread for the trip. So now the really crazy part of the trip begins. If I make it to Segovia, I'll post an update. If not, well, thanks for reading! :)

I'm off

Tomorrow is the big day. Let's do this!

Gear (sort of) Dilemma

So I've got everything packed and with the laptop it's just a shade over 40 lbs (42). Not really a problem as I've been training w 60 lbs so it feels fine but the pack itself is STUFFED. This is primarily for two reasons: (1) the tent & sleeping back take up about 1/3 to 1/2 of the interior space (more than I had anticipated); and (2) packing my boots in the pack also takes up waaaay too much space. I had considered leaving the boots behind but I've been strongly advised not to do that.

So, while I've got everything in there and I'm at a reasonable weight (I would have preferred to be around 35-37 lbs heading out), there is still the issue of physical space. At some point I'm going to need to add water and food for the backpacking portions. Now, granted, when I'm backpacking I'll have the boots out and my much smaller lighter shoes in, as well as probably be wearing the jacket, gloves, and hat.

All that said, there still will not be a ton of space for extra stuff- let alone gifts for people and (of course) any local spirits I want to snag a bottle of.

So the options are: (1) leave the boots (probably not really an option); (2) move the tent to the exterior of the pack using the auxiliary straps (fine for on the trail but don't think I want to be going through cities as it would likely get stolen); (3) leave some more clothes behind; or (4) shut up and deal with it.

For the clothes option I've already pared it down to about the minimum I can. I'm bringing the following:

- 1 jeans
- 1 pants
- 2 shorts
- 8 t-shirts
- 1 long sleeve shirt
- 2 polos
- 1 dress shirt
- 7 regular socks
- 2 hiking socks
- 8 boxers
- 3 undershirts

Basically that should be enough to last 8-10 days easy and up to 2 weeks if necessary. I feel like if I take less, like pulled out 2-3 days worth of clothes, I'll have to do laundry every 5-6 days which would be immensely annoying.

So it appears the best option is to just shut up and deal with it. I'll have to do some juggling around depending on what I'm up to, but at the end of the day I'm pretty damn proud that I've packed around 40 pounds (including what I need for shelter) for a 3 month stint. I usually have 30-40 pounds of stuff not including a tent and sleeping bag for a 2 week vacation.

So with everything packed, the training basically done, and all other preparations nearly complete, I guess it's finally time to get this show on the road. And it's about damn time!