From Big City to Big Mountains

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The five-hour bus ride north from Madrid to Oviedo was an odd mixture of boredom and terror. I traveled with the only other student from my university studying in Spain this semester. As far as I could tell, she and I were the only English-speakers on a crowded coach departing from the deceptively hard-to-navigate Madrid bus station. We almost missed the bus as we patiently waited at the deserted platform where a woman in the ticket office had told us ours would arrive. Seeing as there was clearly no bus leaving from that platform any time soon, I decided to check where the bus a few platforms down was headed. It was ours, and after we threw our bags underneath and climbed aboard, it pulled out of the station less than a minute later.

I watched out the window as the scenery changed from the cityscape of Madrid, to flat, dry farmland, to the calm, rolling Sierra de Guadarrama mountains, and back through the scarcely inhabited brown and yellow plains. I was lulled to sleep as the bus quietly trekked over miles of smooth, straight roads.

A while later I was quite rudely jolted awake as my head slammed against the window on a particularly sharp hairpin turn. The scenery had changed drastically. We were now in a deep green valley amongst the monstrous, rocky cliffs of the Picos de Europa. in the northern province of Asturias. Our bus had switched drivers at the last rest stop and the new one seemed desperate to make up time lost by the slow driver of the first half of the trip. All at the same rapid pace, we drove down steep, winding roads, through long, dark tunnels, and along the edges of rocky cliffs that dropped hundreds of feet, straight to blackish blue lakes below. The stunning views through the panoramic bus windows were enhanced by the adrenaline of the ride. All the while a small knot in my stomach was tying itself tighter and tighter as we neared the city in which I would be living for the next three months.

Our host mothers were excitedly waiting at the bus station in Oviedo to take us to their apartments. Although I had already known they spoke no English, it was still an unexpected shock to suddenly be alone in a car, in a foreign city, with a woman who did not understand a word of my native language. There was so much going through my mind that all my knowledge of Spanish language was buried and momentarily irretrievable. I could not understand anything she was saying as she showed me around my new house. All I could manage were a couple nods and a sí here and there. I was incredibly embarrassed, but glad Spanish apartments are so small and the tour was over quickly so I could escape to my room and unpack.

I’ve been in Oviedo three days now and could not be happier. I am amazed by how much hustle and bustle could go on in such a small city. I can (and have already) walk across the entire city in less than an hour. However, there is always a new route to take and always different and interesting Spanish things to take in. Every block is shrouded with cafés and bars, bakeries, fruit shops, and candy stores. The city center is comprised of centuries old buildings and narrow, winding roads, all centered by a massive 13th century Cathedral. My Spanish is coming back quickly and my vocabulary has already increased drastically while making my way through still foggy conversations with my host mother (Violeta, by the way). Violeta is incredibly patient and has no problem having long talks with me, or at me for that matter, even though I am quite sure she realizes a fair amount of what she says remains a complete mystery to me.

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