A Weekend in Copenhagen

I’m not gonna lie, when I thought of the European cities I HAD to visit while living in Spain, Copenhagen wasn’t high on the list. Berlin, Amsterdam, Budapest? Definitely. Italy? Without a doubt. But Copenhagen? It didn’t really rank.

That was a mistake, and one I’m SO glad didn’t stop me from booking the tickets when Gareth mentioned how much he wanted to go. I’d been to Iceland before, another trip that I was excited for for personal reasons but wasn’t expecting too much from the place itself, and Iceland is now my all time favorite country to visit.

On the flight over from Madrid, everything was announced in Spanish, and then in English. On the way back it was announced in Danish and English. This speaks to the overwhelming privilege English speakers have, when a flight going to/from non-English speaking countries leaves one of those languages out in favor of English. It was also the first time since arriving in Logrono, that I felt like I understood 100% of what was going on. Oh there will be turbulence? Not a problem, because I know to expect it! Drinks service coming around? Don’t mind if I do!

My plane ride was super fun–I was sat next to two girls from Burgos who knew some English, and in a mix of our two languages we chatted throughout the flight. I’m going to visit them when I go to Burgos! About halfway through a man came on the speakers singing a really lovely song in Spanish, and he proposed to his girlfriend! It was so so nice and really romantic.

When I landed Gareth was there waiting for me. I’ve gotta say, nothing will be as hard as LA to London long distance, but seeing each other every few weeks is its own form of torture. We are constantly saying goodbye, and that is really hard! I used to hate people who complained about distance when they could see each other every few weeks, and while I would NEVER go back to what it was before, I will finally admit this version can suck too. That said, if the way we get to see each other is by meeting up in random cities every few weeks, we are so, so lucky.

Our airbnb was a bit outside of the city, but on the main metro line connecting Copenhagen to the airport, so it was incredibly convenient and much cheaper than it would have been had we stayed more central. We only had to ride that one metro the entire time. And much like our trips to Portland and Seattle, we bought a transport pass and then proceeded to walk unchecked onto every train/boat/bus we rode.

The first night we dropped off our bags and headed back into the city. After a few wrong turns and an extra 45 minutes of walking, we ended up in a really hip area our host recommended, and had a delicious dinner and shared a bottle of wine. The whole evening was so nice–the fact that we got lost meant we walked along the canal for ages, checking out the swans and the lights–because Europe doesn’t have Thanksgiving, everything is already decorated and ready for Christmas! It was freezing but everywhere we went was warm and had such great ambiance. Though much like Iceland, Copenhagen was insanely expensive. That romantic dinner? Over $150, which is the most I’ve ever spent on a meal in my life. We decided to not worry about it, and started a system where we kept track of our spending in the krone, so we wouldn’t have sticker shock after every purchase. (Just once at the end of the trip, much better.) Back in our airbnb our host had gone to bed but left us mint infused water and candles lit everywhere. Not too shabby.

The next day was unseasonably warm, meaning it was around 33 degrees. Because of the nice weather, we decided to do all the activities near the canals. We walked to the Little Mermaid statue, and checked out Kastellet, an old (but still functioning) army fortress. Then we took the riverboat metro to Nyhavn, which was my favorite part of the trip. The houses were gorgeous, there were tons of little Christmas market stalls set up, and mulled wine everywhere. Heaven.

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We wandered the area for a bit, and I bought gloves, a Christmas ornament, and we got a magnet to add to our collection. Then we crossed the bridge, and went to Copenhagen Street Food, a market with tons and tons of food stalls. It was insanely busy, and I was super overwhelmed because there were so many different options. I LOVE the food in Spain, but there is no variety. It’s all Spanish food, all the time. I wanted ethnic, and suddenly there were about 100 different kinds. I made us check out each booth while Gareth tried not to kill me, before settling on the first one we saw–BBQ pulled pork and curly fries. Delicious.

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yoko ono had an art exhibit going on

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After eating we had to decide–would we go to Christiania? Christiania is a self proclaimed autonomous region right next to Copenhagen. People basically took over an old army barracks and town in the 1970s, and decided it wasn’t part of Denmark or even the EU. It has its own laws, and has a long history of fights with the Danish police, but it’s also a progressive, artistic, hippy area. We had been going back and forth for a few days. G really wanted to go, I had heard it was seedy, dangerous, and didn’t live up to expectations. We asked our host and she said if we went through the main gates, yes, we would find the seedy side. It’s where all the pot is sold, and it the more sketchy part of town. But if we went in a side entrance, we’d be going into the actual parts of town where people lived. Not tourists looking to buy drugs, but homes and shops and bars. She convinced me, and by pure luck we happened upon one of the side entrances, and we were very suddenly and very obviously no longer in Copenhagen.

Everyone was smoking pot. I don’t smoke and because of a past experience don’t love being around it, so this put my guard up a bit at first. But G got a beer and I (who was freezing) got a hot chocolate, and suddenly I felt so much better. There were families and dogs and everyone we talked to was so, so nice. It was a very laid back, hippy sort of place, and if you relaxed a bit, it was easy to get caught up in the vibe.

That said it was freezing. And it was time to make our last decision. I had asked our host if she had any saunas she could recommend, knowing we’d be walking in the cold all day. She said the best one was in Christiania. That it was all nude, and coed, but it was a place people went with their kids. I think at first I was all for it and G was more reserved, but then as Gareth felt more and more comfortable in Christiania, he was definitely down to try and I was more hesitant, faced with the actual decision. The fact that I was freezing won out, and we headed over.

It wasn’t what I expected, but fit the town perfectly. At first, it was all dudes. Just totally naked dudes. I had to try so hard to look only at their eyes, whereas I never felt like anyone was looking at me where I wouldn’t want them to. It was on the first floor and the windows didn’t have curtains, so people outside could see right in. No one cared. There were people shaving, and showering, and apparently the sauna is used as a community bathing space, especially because some people work in town but live out in Copenhagen, too far from convenient showers, I guess.

We were given a paper bag to write our names on and put our valuables in (the people here obviously trust each other a lot more than I trust the people at my gym at home). G kept giving me chances to back out, and I stripped down to my underwear before realizing no one thought this was weird but me, and as soon as I was naked I stopped feeling weird about it at all. I did something like this in Istanbul, but it was all women and I think I might have kept my underwear on, though I can’t remember. Here you had to be naked. We showered and went into the sauna, where there were other women, some people doing yoga, some people smoking, and other just relaxing. It was REALLY nice after walking in the freezing cold all day, and we stayed for about a half an hour until the heat got too much. When we came out there were kids playing in the pools. It did feel like a community space and not uncomfortable at all.

When we left, we were totally ready to face the cold again. One of the guys who might have worked there, or might have just been a customer, was talking to us about energy and chakras, and it made me sad that Christiania gets such a bad rep. We walked out through the main gate, and passed all the stalls selling things to tourists and I’m so happy we came in a different way and that wasn’t our first impression of the town. We had a great time there.

you can't take pictures inside town, but here outside

you can’t take pictures inside town, but here outside

We went back to Nyhavn and sat under a heater and drank mulled wine and just talked and hung out. It was a really, really nice day. We finished it with hot dogs from 7/11 which sounds gross but oh my god is 7/11 so much nicer in Copenhagen than it is in the states.

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The next morning we packed our things and I tried not be sad that the weekend was already over, but excited about the fact that it had been so good and we have plans to do so many more trips like this in the coming year. Our host let us leave our bags and we went up Christiansborg Palace and the Round Tower. The former was free and the latter was I think 2.50 euros, but we both enjoyed the Round Tower more. It was so cool–to get to the top, instead of stairs it’s a stone ramp that you walk all the way up and all the way down. There was a lot more to see here, and the place was well marked with historical info and papers in both Danish and English. Also I caught a squirtle on pokemon go which has been a goal for a really long time.

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original toilet

original toilet

Afterwards we decided to go back to Nyhavn and have more mulled wine and just chill a bit before leaving for the airport. At the start of the main street, among all the stalls, was a hot dog stand. DO NOT GO TO THIS HOT DOG STAND. Please note this was the weekend after the election and I had been having a really hard time feeling any sort of happiness at all. This trip was an escape from the depressing reality my country was now in. Anyway, we decided to get hot dogs. The menu was just pictures of different hot dogs with no descriptions of what they actually were. So I asked him what three different ones were and ordered two of them. He only got out one bun, and as there were some pictured on the menu sans bun, I asked if we could both have buns on our hot dogs. Apparently this was a HUGE INSULT and the guy went off. He really rudely asked me if I was okay with him toasting the buns one at a time, and embarrassed I had offended him so much, I was like, “Yes of course, I was just making sure you knew what we wanted.” He huffed at me and turned to Gareth and started a REALLY sexist and sexual rant about women. It was horrible. We were both so shocked, and then he turned back to me and asked what I would allow him to put on the hot dog. I was so frozen. I think if it had happened two weeks earlier, I would have yelled back. But I was already feeling so defeated and hopeless. I stood there in shock for a moment, said we didn’t want them anymore, and walked just far enough away so he couldn’t see me and burst into tears. Now I wish I had the name of his stall so I could post all over the internet to never give this man your business, but I didn’t plan that well. It was the only hot dog stand on the street. He was a grumpy old man with a runny nose. Those are the details I remember.

UPDATE I found a picture of the stand!

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hos michael, you suck. sincerely, women.

Anyway, after that we decided to just head to the airport. We got in early enough that we were able to get dinner there and play some cards. And though the trip ended on a sour note, it was actually SO lovely and such a nice time, and the mean hot dog man didn’t ruin the trip at all. I highly, highly recommend Copenhagen, and really hope I can go back some day. I think we had the perfect itinerary for just two days, but I’d like to stay for longer. I’m also feeling really motivated to check out Norway, Sweden, and Finland now too!

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Spain, Two Month Update

I’m a little late with this, and it’s actually been about two and a half months, but oh well. Here are my updates!

Central Theme: I still love Spain! Shocking, I’m sure. 

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what Logroño looks like right now

I FINALLY finished everything I need to do to be able to stay in Spain long term. I picked up my ID card from the ayuntamiento on Friday and can finally stop worrying about complicated Spanish paperwork!

Spanish

My Spanish is getting so much better. I’m definitely not speaking perfectly, but I’m getting my point across, and I’m FINALLY at the point where I can speak without taking forever to think about each word I want to say before saying it. For more difficult things, like bank account problems, or maybe getting a kitten(?!?!) to make Brady less lonely, I have my bilingual roommate come with me. Also the more I learn the more I realize how little I know, but in most general situations I am totally self sufficient.

Social Life

My two roommates are awesome, I met a great British girl, and honestly I’m spending like every other weekend with Gareth. Other than the Katie shaped hole that will never ever go away, I’m really happy socially. Also though my schedule SOUNDS really open, I’m actually working from like 9-9 every day with the downtime during a siesta in the middle, so by the time I get home it’s late and I’m so happy to just hang out. Basically I am old and the Spanish nightlife is something I am no longer able to keep up with.

We did have a Halloween party, which was fun because Halloween isn’t really that big of a deal here, so it was an American/Auxiliar bonding session.

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Schedule

I teach at my school 12 hours a week, 4 hours a day on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I do private lessons from 4-6 on Mondays and Tuesdays, and Spanish lessons from 8-9 on Mondays and 7-8:30 on Tuesdays. I have Wednesdays off from the school but I have a Spanish class 1-2, and then private lessons 3:30-8:30, and then Thursday I work at the school, do private lessons from 3:30-6:00, and Spanish class from 7-8:30. It feels like a lot, teaching is exhausting but I LOVE my private lessons, the families are all so nice and the main reason I feel connected to Spain.

The school is still not ideal. I’m supposed to be an assistant but I’m being treated as a full teacher with my own classroom and such. As someone who doesn’t speak Spanish and is NOT A TRAINED TEACHER it’s pretty hard. So that’s my schedule. Also EVERYTHING closes from 2-5 which is the worst cause it’s mostly the only time I have off, and nothing is open on Sundays. I am bad at planning ahead and this leads to me eating a lot of rice.

Logroño

Logroño continues to be such an amazing place to live. A little while after Halloween they had a festival because it was the anniversary of the last “witch” to be hung in Europe–she was hung in Logroño. There were stalls selling tons of handmade crafts and food, and they put on a truly creepy show about the history of the event. And then, because it’s Spain, we all got to go on stage and drink mead from the cauldron.

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The weather is starting to change. At first the cold was killing me–and by cold I mean about 40 degrees. All through college I used to sleep with a fan in my window–even in the winter! My roommates hated me! I loved the cold. LA changed that. Changed me. When I first moved there I hated the lack of real weather–sunny and 75 was horrible. Now I love it so much. If the sky isn’t a perfect blue, I feel instantly depressed and lazy. That said, eventually I realized I would feel better if I bought a coat and scarf and gloves, and actually prepared for the dropping temperature. Shockingly enough that has really my outlook. Now I’m enjoying the diverse weather (though the fact that it gets dark at like 6 is still depressing). It’s raining right now and I have my big windows open, and I’m sitting in bed drinking tea. It’s really nice.

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Travel

Gareth and I hiked part of the GR 93, which was fantastic.

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We also went to Copenhagen, and it reaffirmed my total and complete love for Scandinavia. Iceland is still my favorite place I’ve ever been, but Copenhagen came close.

Upcoming Travel

It’s Thanksgiving week, and I leave tomorrow for London! We’re having a proper Thanksgiving meal with a Turkey and all the fixings. I can’t wait! I haven’t been to London since my birthday and I REALLY miss my friends there.

I get back to Spain on Sunday and leave that Friday for 10 days of Christmas Markets! Gareth and I are doing Berlin and Amsterdam, and then I’m meeting one roommate in Prague for a few days before we’ll head to Poland and meet our other roommate for the weekend. I’m SO EXCITED. If you know anything about me it’s that I LOVE Christmas. And Thanksgiving. And markets.

About four days after I get back from Poland my mom arrives for the holidays, which I’m so excited about I can barely type the sentence. She’s never left the states! She’s coming to SPAIN. She didn’t even come to LA. I can’t wait to show her around,  I think she’s going to love it here. Also our moms will be meeting for the first time, which is exciting and scary and wonderful.

The Election

Also, the election happened. I haven’t said anything about it because I really don’t know what to say. Actually, I thought that was true and then I started typing and the words were flowing. So this will be a separate post. Not a happy one, but that’s the general theme of the entire election, so why stop now.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! It’s weird not being in America on such a major holiday–I had work this morning, and it’s felt like any other day. That said I’m currently sitting in the airport waiting to fly to London, where I’ll be spending the weekend with my friends. We’ll have a full Thanksgiving on Saturday, so I still get to celebrate, just a few days late!

This year has been hard for the world in a lot of ways, but there’s so much to be thankful and hopeful for. The country is rallying together after a tough, disheartening election. Donations to Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, and other rights organizations are up by so much. When I donated to the recount fund last night, there were $2250,000 in donations. There’s now nearly 3.5 million!

Also there will be NEW GILMORE GIRLS EPISODES TOMORROW.

On a personal note, I’m getting to travel around Europe, something I’ve dreamt about for years. I’m learning Spanish.  In a few short weeks my mom will be traveling to Spain. Three of my good friends have recently gotten engaged. Gareth and I are on the same continent! Seeing each other is so easy now, and I can’t believe how amazing it feels. It is so, so hard to be a world apart, but even worse, 8 hours apart, from the person you love. I’m SO glad we’re past that now. And I get to spend this holiday, and the coming holidays, with him (and BOTH our families!).

All my friends in London have rallied around Thanksgiving. Everyone is brining a dish and we’re not missing any major Thanksgiving staples. I can’t wait to see them all, I haven’t been to London since my spur of the moment birthday trip last winter! I’m thankful that I have family and friends in the states that are so amazing that I miss them too much. I’m thankful I amazing friends here, as well.

I hope everyone has a fantastic day full of food, football, family, and friends!

GR-93 San Millan de Cogolla to Anguiano Hike

So we left off with us making the decision to go home, and we were waiting for the bus in San Millan. And waiting. And, guess what? No bus appeared. Either we were in the wrong spot, or the online bus schedule was wrong, but it was clear there was no option but to walk to Anguiano, and catch the bus from there as originally planned. I’m not gonna lie, at this point I was pretty nervous. I stretched and thought about crying and finally decided to pretend I was on The Challenge and just power through.

On the bright side the bus stop was right by the monastery, which was so pretty in the morning.

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We had a huge day ahead of us, so we prepared with a huge breakfast. This slightly improved my mood, as did the chocolate Gareth started forcing me to eat at random intervals. And I am SO glad we did the second day. Yes, by the end I was limping along, positive I had irreparably damaged my knee, but the second day was so gorgeous. We walked through the forest for a few hours, and didn’t see a single other person. We walked on a mountain rim, and saw an amazing mountain pass, with a path through it. Probably we’ll need to come back one day to climb it, because it was incredible.

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After about four hours of walking we passed a town that had a bar that was miraculously open, and we stopped and had a snack and a glass of wine. Then we walked about five more minutes and saw a trail marker. I ran up to it, sure we had another hour or two at most, because I was naive, and the wine had improved my view of the world. I found that we were halfway. Halfway.

There’s no picture of this marker because honestly, the discovery stung a bit. We’d been taking it slow because of my knee and suddenly I was worried we were going to miss our bus back to Logroño. But the next hour or so was all on flat ground, and we passed through a town and then walked on a (really pretty) street for quite a while. It was a nice break, and still really gorgeous.

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Eventually Anguiano was in sight, but not before the path led us up a long and winding mountain. It was really incredible–we could see the trees with all their colors everywhere, the village across the river, and there were cows EVERYWHERE. Up until this point we had encountered many a cow, but always with enough room to just casually (or frantically, if you are me and not Gareth) walk by them. But now we were on a MUCH narrower path and there were about five cows just chilling along the way. We tried to herd them a bit before G climbed up a trail behind them and dropped a rock down. (To be clear NOT on them, just so the noise disturbed them and they moseyed away.) Then we were on the real and actual final stretch. We had to walk back down the mountain which was the final straw for my knee. Before the descent, however, there was a marker saying only 2 kilometers left, which gave me the motivation I needed to get it done. THAT SAID, that marker is a huge lie and it was much, much more than 2K. Just FYI.  I commandeered a stick as a crutch and hobbled along like a crippled 90 year old woman. Also I slipped and fell in mud/possibly poo hahaha. So imagine how amazing this trek was that I was STILL amazed by the beauty and so happy to be there.

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the lying marker

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At the end of the final trail there was a gate to the bridge that would let us cross the river into town. We were done, except for the last cow in our way. Gareth went to herd it and discovered that no, it was not a cow. IT WAS A BULL. He attempted to tell me this in a calm and reassuring manner, which my brain interpreted as him calmly telling me to GTFO of there. So in about .5 seconds I had slid between the fence that was keeping us all in and was dangling on the mountain ledge. G walked over, asked WHAT I was doing and if I would please come out so we could carry on walking. Oops. In reality this guy seemed way less interested in us than any of the cows were. That said, Gareth and I have made some cow enemies over the years…

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Anyway, we went through the gate, into safety, across the bridge, and INTO ANGUIANO!

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The bus stop back to Logroño is right by the bridge and there was a bar about a minute farther down the road. Again it wasn’t a time they were serving any food, but it was the only place open. So they offered to make us some bocadillos, and we played cards and drank wine for a few hours until our bus. It was pretty excellent.

I cannot recommend this hike enough. It was INCREDIBLY gorgeous, had a seriously diverse landscape–sometimes we were in mountains, sometimes in the forest, by a river, or passing through a small village. Other than our start, mid, and end points, we only saw four other people the entire time, and they were all working on the land. We had the entire trail to ourselves, and that was as amazing as it sounds.

Pertinent Information:

It was SUPER well marked, though we did get lost once and it was pretty much the worst. We had just spent about 45 minutes going down a long, winding road to the bottom of a mountain. And then the trail seemed to be taking us straight back up, just on a direct/steeper trail. I was so sure it was a shortcut to get down to where we were from the top, but G ran ahead on the road we were on and there wasn’t another marker anywhere nearby us. So we took the incredibly steep trail, which led us… back where we started. It was pretty disheartening. We debated going back down the long, easy way, but I couldn’t imagine sinking another 45 minutes into it, and we were back down the steep path in about 20 minutes. And discovered the trail continued straight ahead, behind the road we had been on. We didn’t think to look down the edge of the road, but that’s where the next marker was. BUT other than that, we didn’t miss a beat and I can’t get over these trails Spain just has built in everywhere, no maps needed!

The buses to/from Logroño and Anguiano were super easy. We bought the tickets on each bus, and slept during the rides. The way there was about an hour and fifteen minutes and the way back was 45. I have no clue what the bus situation in San Millan is, and if you figure it out please let me know!

GR-93 Ezcaray to San Millan de Cogolla Spanish Hike

A few weeks ago Gareth came back to Logroño so we could work on our new goal to do all the best northern Spanish hikes, and do a few days of the GR-93. I heard about this route before coming to Spain and it was at the top of my list because it was supposed to offer amazing views with tons of fall foliage–basically all this New England girl could ever want. Spoiler alert, it delivered.

The portion we would be doing would start from Ezcaray, with a night in San Millan de Cogolla, and the bus back to Logroño from Anguiano.

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Day One

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Day Two

We left Logroño Friday morning on the only early bus (6:45 am) and we arrived in Ezcaray at 7:30 am. It was dark. It was FREEZING. Apparently it’s much colder in Ezcaray than the surrounding areas, which on the plus side means come winter there’s skiing, and on the terrible side means we were dropped off on the outskirts of a freezing, empty, dark town. Guys it was so cold. We walked the most intuitive way, and ended up in the town center. No food places were open yet, but there was a tiny shop open that served coffee and tea. We went inside and pooled all the clothes we had to try to warm up (read, I stole every article of clothing Gareth wasn’t wearing, and one he was). We had tea, watched Spanish news tear into Trump, and then when the sun came out and a few other shops opened, left to find breakfast. Also in the light of day this was one of the prettiest little villages I’ve seen so far!

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The great thing about this hike, and all Spanish hikes I’ve experienced thus far, is that they are all very well marked with paint. This route was red and white, and it became a game (though not a fun one because my competition was not nearly on my level), to see the markers first.

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The first day was amazing. We basically hiked up a mountain, down a mountain, walked through the town, and back up the next mountain. Did anyone else, as a kid, ever see mountains or hills in the distance and really want to climb them just to see what was on the other side? That’s what this was like. And these villages… I honestly didn’t know people lived in villages so small. I’m still not sure they DO because we never actually saw any people in the smallest ones. To be honest, we didn’t see many people in the larger ones either. It was strange. We didn’t prepare well, and only had a little bit of food for the journey, so every time we did see a person we asked if there was anywhere to buy any food and the answer was always no. Even in San Millan de Cogolla, the much more populated village where we spent the night, the nearest supermarket was 5 kilometers from town. What!

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Right at the end of the first day, my knee started hurting. I injured in a million years ago doing gymnastics, and we have worked out a deal where basically if I don’t use it, it won’t bother me. So I don’t do lunges or high impact activities, and it pretends it’s a fully functioning knee. But descending five different mountains in about six hours was pretty much its breaking point, and I hobbled the rest of the way into San Millan.

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San Millan, it has to be said, is COMPLETELY gorgeous. The walk in is along a river and a really cool stone wall/orchard. The village is fairly big, and has a few different monasteries (one of which houses the first record of written Spanish), and we saw more than five people just out and about, which is a real crowd in smaller Spanish villages. You might say San Millan was hoppin’. (But you shouldn’t because it was still only about five people.)

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In my research I couldn’t find anywhere in San Millan to stay, but I found a few options on airbnb in Berceo, which was only 1.5 kilometers away. The only downside is you have to walk down a fairly busy street, which was fine during the day, but after seeing the way people were whipping by at night, and how dark it was, we played it safe and had dinner at the one restaurant in Berceo instead of heading back to San Millan.

Berceo kind of freaked me out at first. There was no one around. Small Spanish villages often feel like ghost towns, or like you accidentally just wandered into Roanoke. Add to that the fact that there was nowhere to buy any sort of groceries or pharmacy related items, my knee was killing me, we were trapped and couldn’t safely get to San Millan, I started feeling like we were in a horror movie. We found the one dinner place, and were two of about four patrons there when we arrived at 8:00. They told us the kitchen was open yet, because this is Spain and 8:00 is still way too early for dinner, but they were super nice and gave us snacks while we waited.

So we played cards–side note, the most common deck of cards here only has 40 cards in a pack! There aren’t any face cards, and the whole thing is pretty confusing. We invented a bastardized version of golf, drank some more wine (which helped me switch from thinking we were in a horror movie to a tiny romantic village), and by the time the first of our three courses arrived, I was feeling much better.

Better mentally that is, physically my knee was at about a code red/black. Whichever is worse. We went to sleep knowing that we might not be able to continue the next day, and planned to walk to the bus stop in San Millan to assess how I felt and potentially go back to Logroño. There were only two buses from San Millan, one in the morning and one at night, and the smaller villages we were passing through didn’t even have people, let alone bus service. So we woke up early, walked to the bus stop assessed. I decided I was being insane and if I could barely walk for five minutes, a seven hour hike up and down a bunch of mountains was a terrible idea.

Read Part Two here!