GIJON - BETWEEN THE CANTABRICAN SEA AND THE CORDILLIERA MOUNTAINS

---

For a traveller, tight connections are guaranteed to cause anxiety! After leaving Toledo to travel up to Madrid Atocha Station, I had 1 hour to find my way through the maize of levels and tunnels to Cercanias and catch a train which would take me to Charmartin Station. My anxiety levels were working overtime even before I arrived at Atocha Station. Upstairs was smiling on me, because this time I only had to use my Spanish 3 times and got 1 different answer and 2 the same. So I went with '2 the same' and found Cercanias, where the connecting train was leaving from. Had to be determined to get myself and case on board, as everybody else had the same idea.

Thankfully, there was just enough time to have a quick breakfast before boarding the RENFE AVE high speed train to cross the plains and travel up into the mountains. The journey time was 5 hours and for the last third, absolutely spectacular! There were 3 long carriages, almost completely filled when we left Madrid and by the time we arrived in Gijon, the end of the journey, only about 5 of us were left.

When the first of the snow-capped mountain peaks - my favourite view - flashed into sight I realised that the large train windows were not high or wide enough to capture the whole view. I moved up to the cafe/bar car in front. The next hour was magic. as we alternated flashing into inky tunnels and out into vistas of vivid green mountain slopes dotted with ginger coloured cows who obviously dont suffer from vertigo as the slopes were so steep. These cows reminded me of photos I have seen of the Scottish cows in similar-looking countryside in Scotland. The man behind the counter told me that he had the best view of almost anyone on the train and most of the time too! Since this mountain range is so high, a large percentage of the line runs through it and not over it and must have taken a lot of time and money to complete. High-speed trains travel very fast on mostly flat land, but even this one wasnt travelling faster than a normal speed train when we started climbing!

Wasnt sure quite what to expect of Northern Spain, as I havent been up here before, but the bit Ive seen so far is very different to the middle and southern part of Spain. Gijon sits in between the mountain range we travelled through and the Cantabrican Sea. It has a Malecon (a wide walkway which follows the beach around the huge bay) and after the first long walk, following it around and up over the cliff faces, I know that its going to become my favourite part of this town. At home, although I love living in the hills, there is something about the ocean which draws me to it. However, there always seems to be something needing to be done and not enough time to travel out to the ocean.

From exploring the old town, it is clear that Gijon has a deep connection with the sea, in both its maritime history and daily way of life. Up high on the cliff-face the old cannons, gun emplacements and barracks have been restored. I found the information on the plaques really interesting and new to me. The era I grew up in, our history books had very little information of European countries, with the exception of England, to which our apron strings are still tied. There is a modern port and a marina for the wealthier Europeans. And amongst this picturesque setting, are dotted the historical old limestone buildings supporting a working port.

Everywhere I walk in this old quarter of the town, are reminders of the fishing fleets of the past and the fishermen who earned their living from the sea. The cobblestoned laneways have shallow runlets in their centres to cope with the heavy rainfalls. The quaint bronze street-name plaques on the corners of the buildings are mostly named after different types of boats or nautical themes, as are the ancient cafe/bars. There seems to be only 2 directions in this part of town. Straight up, or straight down! Reminds me so much of Cuzco! After seeing the first of the original TINY two-level cottages, I have fallen in love with them. They are much smaller than the later-built houses around them and have so much character to them. You have to climb up the steep one-person stairs to get to the front door, which is split into 2 halves. Shut both of them and you have a safe little haven, open the top half as the older ones often do and stand with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pipe in the other to watch life going about its business below.

My daily walking/exploring always unearths some small but interesting sight. The other day, I realised the significance of the gleaming brass shells set at intervals into the pavements, all pointing in the same direction, meant. They are part of the Camino de Santiago of the North which follows the coastline all the way to Santiago de Compostela. (There are so many different Caminos, originating from many directions, but most ending in the beautiful old Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela.

Always I walk around the malecon - sometimes right up and out along the cliff face too. The first time I walked this way, I came up to a large bronze statue, on it's own and very close to the cliff face. It is a very poignant theme - a mother standing staring out to sea with one arm raised in farewell and the saddest look on her face. The plaque simply says - Monumento a la madre del emigrante - something I imagine would have occurred frequently as sons, husbands or whole families emmigrated to a land faraway in search of a better life leaving the older ones at home.

Other times I head out up through the old quarter and walk in the opposite direction along the cliff face overlooking the port and marina out over the ocean. The wind here is always strong, sometimes hard to walk into it, and I guess that life here would have been very hard for the people living in those times. After my feet have carried me far enough, a small cafe/bar will come into view, the smell of good coffee draws me into the warmth and bustle inside and I say a Thank You for my fortunate life.

It's very easy to like the Spanish people, because they generally like the same things that we do in Australia - family, friends, pets, the garden and being sociable - and they are, in general - a lot kinder to to their old folks than a lot of us are. All it takes is some Spanish, which will take you halfway and most of them will go out of their way to help you.

In this manner, a week has slipped quickly by and tomorrow, I move on again. Gijon has slipped into my heart and I will return here next time I come to Spain.

The next stop is Oviedo - a journey of only 25 minutes on a local bus back up into the mountains, where I will stay for a week before moving on up to Santiago de Compostela.

To my family and friends,

Think of me as I frequently do of you

with much love

from your wandering Ibu

---