Zaragoza

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The train from Madrid clocked at a steady 300km/hr, turning a 3+ hour drive into an hour and ten-minute ride through the torrid Spanish plains.

Walking from the station, I saw a digital bank thermometer that read 51 degrees (124 degrees Fahrenheit). But it felt like nothing close to as hot as other parts of Spain I’ve visited since it was very dry and breezy. Maybe I just prepared myself well for the worst.

I dropped off my boots and warm clothes at Pension Estrella, which is where I’m staying before my flight to Belgium in 2 weeks and continued on to Hotel San Valero, which is in the Old Town.

My short stay in Madrid reminded me of what “great location” means there: hardly any Spaniards and hordes of student tourist groups. Zaragoza was quite the opposite: the city seems to survive well on its own. The tapas restaurants I found had local regulars and the tourists were mainly Spaniards.

Staying at hotels with private rooms has its disadvantages. It’s tough to meet other travelers. Not that many of them stop staring at their phones much in the hostels anymore.

But I still enjoyed being an observer while trying small plates of tortilla, fried cod, olives, and the other few things I can get by on in Spain without eating meat. I followed the sound of a flamenco band playing on a corner in the narrow streets and watched elbow-to-elbow with the 20-somethings, with no trace that there was ever a pandemic.

In the morning I went on a walking tour and the sights are really on par with the rest of Europe - the second-largest plaza in Europe (behind only Red Square), impressive churches converted from mosques left over from Moorish control, sprawling handicraft markets, and countless cafés and tapas restaurants. If you’re looking for somewhere just off the beaten path, Zaragoza is perfect.

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