Aqueducts and Alcazars: Segovia

I vividly remember learning about aqueducts in my grade school history classes with Mr. Loehr and wondering, “why on Earth are we talking about this?!” Running water seemed to be a nice addition to what I had naively imagined to be primitive living, an advantage I have taken for  granted, having always had it myself. While I thought it was nice for the Romans to have water and all, I did not understand why we were going on and on about some gutters in the ground. Fortunately, I have wisened up in my older years, and I am jumping on the bandwagon - aqueducts are not only ingenious architectural creations, they are monstrous works of skillful art and something everyone must see and experience for themselves. 

Segovia, Spain is one of the best - and for that reason one of the most popular - day-trip options from Madrid. Beyond its over 2000 year-old aqueduct, it has a fairy tale-esque castle you can storm (by climbing 152 steps), famed roast suckling pig to devour at every restaurant, and, of course, a beautiful Gothic cathedral. You can engage in each of these delights in one full day, and from Madrid, the trip is a 28 minute bullet train ride (and a 15 minute bus ride).

Segovia (Victorious City) originated as a Celtic landholding, with control then passing to the Romans to be used as a Latin convent. It was then abandoned centuries later, following the Islamic invasion of Spain. Around 1080 the city was resettled with Christians from north of the Iberian Peninsula and beyond the Pyrenees. In the Middle Ages, given the city’s key position on trading routes, its industry of wool and textiles exploded and continued throughout the 16th century. Jewish populations began to settle in the region, and its collective population rose to 27,000 in 1594. However, this prosperity was short-lived: one century later the population fell to 8,000. Attempts to revitalize the textile industry in the 18th century were unsuccessful. In 1764 Spain’s first military academy, the Royal School of Artillery, was opened, and in 1808 the town’s forces were put to the test as French troops sacked the city during the War of Independence. Less than 30 years later, it was unsuccessfully attacked by Don Carlos in the First Carlist War – a Civil War over succession to the throne in Spain. Segovia finally saw its population recover in the 19th and 20th century, having achieved relative economic stability.

Segovia finally reaped the benefits of its historical foundations when, in 1984 both the city itself and the aqueduct specifically were declared World Heritage Sites by UNESCO. With its narrow cobble-stoned streets, Jewish architecture, and astounding landmarks, the humble city is truly a walk back in time.

Often, when arriving in different towns, I have found there is always one more step I need to take to get where I really want to go. To get to Paris and Rome we needed to take an hour-long taxi. In the Canary Islands, we ended up needing two busses, a long walk, and a Ferry Ride. Our honeymoon in Malaga was a nightmare of trains, buses, and taxis. While it takes a train and a bus to get to Segovia, it was all very easy, very cheap, very fast, and it all allowed for a few beautiful views of the surrounding area. After arriving in nowhere-Segovia’s train station, we disembarked, stepped outside and found two buses waiting to take us to our destination. You step off the bus, look to your right, and feel faint at the monstrosity before you.

The Aqueduct of Segovia is shrouded in mystery and wonderment as to when exactly it was built and how it has managed to stay so well preserved throughout Spain’s history. The Aqueduct used to have an inscription of its date - but that has long-since vanished. Most assume it was built in the 1st Century.

The fascination surrounding this creation does not stop upon first witnessing its grandiose size. It only grows when you realize this is an ingenious work of architecture. This behemoth has managed to withstand centuries of mother nature, human recklessness and general aging - with no mortar. The stones in the Segovia Aqueduct are holding themselves up.

We explored the sight briefly that morning before heading off to our next destination, and we returned in the evening to have a drink and continue to marvel at it all, holding my breath and pondering what a terrible catastrophe it would be for this seemingly fragile world-wonder to collapse before us.

Our next visit was a brief tour of the Cathedral of Segovia. The Cathedral is located in Plaza Mayor, dedicated to Virgin Mary. It was one of the last Gothic Cathedrals constructed in Spain and Europe as a whole, between 1525 and 1577.  A former Cathedral had been built adjacent to the Alcázar, but it was destroyed in a siege while attempting to protect the Alcázar. To avoid future chances of similar destruction, the Cathedral is now a good distance away from the palace.

A view of the Cathedral from the Alcazar Tower. 

I’ve seen dozens of Cathedrals - most of them Gothic - at this point, and they all have started to run together, with their gilded altars, arched ceilings, multiple chapels, and stained glass. However, each one has evoked a unique character that seem to make them all worth the visit. Entrance to the Cathedral in Segovia was €3.00 each, and sadly, no photos whatsoever were allowed once inside. And so, as with Escorial, I put my phone away and focused on taking it all in. Noticeably, while this Cathedral has been dedicated to the Virgin Mary, its chapels seemed to indicate otherwise; almost all of them focused their art on the story of the crucifixion. It was, honestly, a little too much for me. Unlike other cathedrals I had visited, this one seemed to be more in a state of disrepair - or perhaps a constant state of repair? Water damage was evident here and there, parts of the marble floor had worn away, and some of the altars seemed in dire need of polishing. Along the walls, aligned with the peak of the 33-meter-tall arches so characteristic of Gothic churches, bright stained glass windows told a story, but some were missing. I personally liked the abandoned sentiment of it all. I found solace in the antiquity of the building’s spirit, and I appreciated its genuine nature. 

After passing through each chapel, we entered into a courtyard that led to two more rooms. The first was a small museum of silver and gilded chalices and crosses, french tapestries, and interesting paintings. The second was the "Chapter House" covered in Flemish tapestries from the 18th Century and topped with a 17th Century Renaissance-style masquetry ceiling. I think this means gilded and over-the-top embellished. This room reinforced a practice we have developed in our time here - look up! 

In sharp contrast to the vulnerable appearance of the giant roman plumbing system was the Segovian Alcázar, perched high-up on a rocky peninsular hill that juts out of a fork in a stream.  Many liken its position and structure to that of a ship, and when you climb to the top of the tower, it does feel like you are in fact steering the palace forward through raging … hills. It began as a fortress, served as a royal palace, was used as a prison, transformed into the Royal Artillery College, and now, it calls to visitors far and wide as a museum.

The location has been of military significance for all of its known history, originating as a Roman, and then Arab fort, until the 12th Century when King Alfonso VIII decided to make it his and his wife’s personal residence. The following Century, a large cave-in led to more remodeling of the growing palace, and in the 15th Century, King John II made the largest contributions to its construction, with the accomplishment of the “New Tower” (John II Tower).

After 1570, upon King Philip II’s marriage to his niece, Anna of Austria (his fourth and most beloved wife), he had sharp slate spires added to the Alcázar to reflect the current styles of central Europe. When the royal court took up residence in Madrid, the Acázar was used as a state prison for about 200 years before King Charles III converted into the Royal Artillery School in 1762. After 100 years of existence, a fire badly damaged the building, and restoration did not begin for two decades. During its restoration, its original features were exaggerated and beautified to reflect the 19th Century obsession with fairy tales and magical kingdoms, making the building more ornamental than functional. Thereafter, Alfonso XIII designated the Ministry of War to use it as a military college. It is now one of the most popular historical tourist destinations in Spain.

After taking in the wonderful external views of the Alcázar, rumored to have inspired Walt Disney’s creation of Cinderellas Castle, and gazing across the yellow and green planes below us, we stood in line, bought our tickets, and began our exploration.As far as ticket costs go, the normal entrance fee is €5.00, plus an additional €2.00 to climb the tower (which is foolish to go without). The student discount is €3.00 for the normal entrance (the tower is still an additional €2.00). However, unlike most student discounts provided in Spain, this one (at least for us) did not ask for further confirmation of our ages - meaning we both got discounts!

We passed through the entrance and began our self-guided tour of the fortress in a side Military School Museum. This was interesting as it had miniatures of the many cannons and laboratories used (from my understanding, they made ammunition here), as well as beakers and jars full of materials used for making explosives. After touring the displays, we decided it was time to see the actual building.

The first room you enter in the Alcázar is the Sala del Palacio Viejo (the Old Palace Room). The main feature here was a fascinating array of armor for horses and men alike. I enjoyed the reminder that I would have been tall in the 16th Century, and Jonny was intrigued by the spear-like toes on the feat of many suits. Apart from the museum decór the room was rather bare, and we moved on.

From the Old Palace Room we entered the Sala de la Chimenea (the Fireplace Room) a small room - with a fireplace - encumbered with a large wooden table. There was some interesting furniture, but we continued on quickly.

Next came the Sala de Solio (the Throne Room). The extravagant mudejar room itself was constructed in the 14th Century, when the Castilian province was under the controversial rule of the Trastámara Dynasty (upon the death of Alfonso XI of Castile, his illegitimate son, Henry II took the throne from his legitimate son - Peter the Cruel, and that branch of the family ruled Castile, and Aragon, until Ferdinand and Isabella united the country). The top half of the walls were adorned with blood-red cloth, under which blue and white glazed tiles (Azulejos)  stretched down to the floor. Intricate gilded doors hung below beautiful archways, and the domed ceiling was a fantastic cornucopia of red and blue detail. The throne itself, added to the room in 1808 in honor of  Alfonso XIII and his wife, Queen Victoria Eugenia (granddaughter of Queen Victoria of England) was red like the walls, with golden outlines, the Spanish coat of arms, and dark wooden seats, all atop a large, fancy rug. The room was rather small, overall, and oddly square shaped.

The Sala de Galeria (the Galley Room), commissioned by Queen Catherine of Lancaster, the mother and guardian of King John II through his infancy, was our next stop. The room received its name from the the ceiling which resembled an upside down view of the hull of a ship.  

Apart from an interesting wall mural on the far end, the remainder of the room was relatively bare, showcasing its golden stone walls, and highlighting the enormous, beautiful windows.

We passed through the Sala de Piñas (the Pine Cone Room), commissioned by Juan II and named for the nearly 400 gilded pine-cone shaped embellishments emerging out of the ceiling, and we arrived in the Cámara Regia (the Royal Bedroom). The bedroom was laden with faded tapestries cut to fit the shapes of the wall, revealing only the arched mudéjar doorways reflecting those in the Sevillan palaces. The four-poster bed, again in the thematic blood red of the Alcázar rooms, took up half of the room. I imagine it was a rather large bed relative to the people - and beds - of the time.

The most popular room came next - the Sala de Reyes (the Hall of Kings). The lower half of the walls were cemented in Azulejos, clothed in blood-red drapings, and decorated with large Renaissance paintings. the overall feel of the room was that of a reception hall, spacious and open with more enormous windows drawing the sun within. But, what is most spectacular about this room is the “frieze” lining the high part of the wall. There statues of the rulers from Pelagius of Asturias to Juana la Loca looked down quizzically upon its visitors. I, personally found the changing headdresses over the years to be the most interesting component of these characters.

Then came the Sala de Cordon (the Cord Room), lined with Franciscan cords to represent Alfonso X’s penance for his excessive pride. Then we made our final stop within the confines of the palace - the chapel where Philip the II married his Anne of Austria. The chapel had, like many of the rooms, been renovated following the fire. However, it proudly displays a painting of the Epiphany by Bartolomé Carducho from 1600 that was rescued as the place burned to the ground. Like Dolly Madison saving the portrait of George Washington during her retreat from the White House in the War of 1812.

We had one more exciting adventure to take before settling in to a traditional Segovian lunch: climbing the tower of Juan II. 

Many signs warn visitors, this part of the trip is not for the faint of heart, that it is 152 steps to get to the top. What they don’t mention is that these are hardly steps. Rather, it is a never ending spiral of (152) triangular, worn-out, slanted slabs. Adding to the thrill of it all, there are constant streams of visitors climbing and descending on these “steps” more suitable for one person. Oh, but don’t worry, there is a rusty chain dangling along the walls for you to grasp in case you slip and fall... I wanted to kiss the ground at both the top and the bottom, because for the second time in my life I made the journey unscathed.

half way up the tower, there is an outlet for you to rest and see another
incredible view of the castle towers and surroundings

And I would do it all over again because the views are too outstanding to miss! We caught our breaths and took a very long look around. On one side, you see an impressive view of the city and its cathedral. Opposite this view, you can look down and see the rest of the castle below you, and you feel as if you are steering it forward like a ship. The remaining sides only offer more wonderful views of the city’s rural surroundings and snow-capped mountains. I´m not sure I would have minded being Rapunzel.

Our workout left us famished and we sought a restaurant to indulge in a Menú that would allow us a taste of the famous local cuisines. Jonny chose Meson don Jimeno, and we were able to try not only the famed - and absolutely delicious Roast Suckling Pig - but also traditional Castilian soup - which tasted like paprika water with chorizo, bread, and fat throughout. A word to the wiser travelers than us: we were very preoccupied with making sure we could see the palace and the cathedral before they closed to the public. This meant lunch closer to the average Spanish lunch time - 3:00. I think in retrospect it would have been a better idea to eat earlier, like 1:00. We probably would not have had to wait for over an hour to eat on a busy Saturday, and we still would have had all the necessary time to visit the Cathedral and Alcázar. Oh well, we had a few beers, a few tapas, and the meal was well worth the wait. 

Our afternoon plans were more unstructured, and when Jonny is your travel companion, this often means falling away from the crowds, and taking the unmarked paths. We returned to the Alcázar area to view the valley below us, lined by an ancient wall. We were there not three minutes and Jonny is futzing with an iron gate. It opened to a set of stone stairs along the wall that devolved into a steep grassing incline, and despite my protest about breaking some rule, we were on our way into some unknown adventure. As soon as it was clear we were allowed to be doing this, I was having fun again, walking along the Camino de la Cuesta de los Hoyos (walk of the slope of the pit?). Up above us people had lined the walls to gaze at the castle, unaware of our existence, and we were blessed with uniquely beautiful views of the Castle and the Cathedral, while immersing ourselves deeper and further into the valley below it.

We circled the entire base of the castle’s foundation, finding random, un-preserved ruins here and there. As the sun began to set, we were scaling an uncountable number stairs to arrive at the top of the rock, on the opposite side of the castle from where we started. I need to be in better shape if I am going to keep up with the whims of my husband.

As the sun was escaping beneath the horizon, we found ourselves back where we started, beneath the Aqueduct. We sat in the plaza, ate ice cream, and relaxed until it was time to say goodbye to another wonderful adventure in Spain.

Exploring a Castle, or Two

Our "Christmas Tree" Improvisation

I have to admit, my time here in Madrid has been more difficult than I expected it to be. I miss my home, my bed, my friends, my food. The holidays, naturally made that a little harder, despite the amazing kindness of a coworker and friend who invited my husband and I to a spectacularly fun and welcoming Christmas Eve feast with his family, and our incredibly generous landlords who shared with us their delicious Christmas and New Years Day Lunches. The food and the company lifted my spirits, and our family even Skyped us during the traditional Harvath present time, so we could share in their joy, say hello to everyone, and celebrate as if we were there the whole time – even if we were skipped in the present distribution rotation! And through it all, the isolation made me acutely aware of how wonderful my husband is as he tried everything imaginable to make my favorite holiday magical for us.

An array of dried fruits at
Plaza de Opera Christmas Market

Most of this all made for a good Holiday, though parts of it made me miss home more than ever. Christmas is not as enthusiastically celebrated here (they celebrate an equivalent on January 6th - Los Reyes Magos - but still, not to the extent we do), so the houses were not dressed in beautiful lights, and the closest resemblance to home-decorations were Santas dangling from ropes (or ladders, if you will) out of windows. Here, he does not magically descend down chimneys as he would in the United States, and while the Spaniards may be more practical about their storytelling, the end result is a little depressing. Madrid has developed Christmas Markets over the years that flood the many plazas with stands and people. But apart from the delicious foods, these only dampened our Christmas spirit more. While the Artisan Market in Plaza de España was worth the visit (Jonny and I even ran into each other there trying to buy Christmas presents), the stalls were sullied with mass-produced, cheap   products, and once you saw one market you saw them all.

Plaza Mayor's Historic Christmas
Market - Endless Streams
of Hoards of People.

Adding insult to injury, Madrid is hard-pressed to inspire me in general these days. I have been here so many times now, that its adventurous appeal has begun to wane on me. I needed something new to reignite my passion for travel and exploration. Escorial, while lovely in its own right, failed in this regard. I felt like I had seen it before. I wanted something different, something more inspiring.

And who would have thought such a place existed less than an hour ride away from the city center? Months of research leading up to the move, and every forum I perused discussing Madrid day-trips, failed me. For none of them pointed me to the one place that has finally gotten me excited about being here – Manzanares el Real.

To lift our jaded Christmas spirits, we had decided to find the closest castle, wherever it was, and explore what it had to offer. A search of castles close to Madrid revealed a structure commissioned in 1475. One picture, and we were on board. The internet was barren of information about what we should expect when we arrived, and it was adequate at best when it came to instructions for public transportation. This enrages me in retrospect. The ride was easy, one that fits all budgets, and above all else, leads to a magical place. In a country that depends so heavily on its tourism as a source of income, you would think they would try a little harder. But perhaps, that is part of this particular location’s appeal. The explorers find it eventually, but it is not perpetually inundated with shallow-minded, lazy, tourists, allowing it to possess that more authentic feel.

As I noted, this trip is incredibly accessible from Madrid, and well worth the nauseatingly erratic bus drive. All one has to do is take the metro to Plaza de Castellana via lines 1, 9, or 10 , and ride bus number 724, an “interubana” bus, for €4.20 one way (€8.40 round trip) down a winding and beautifully scenic road towards the gorgeous mountains. When we arrived at Plaza de Castellana, we were slightly confused as to where we needed to board the bus. Unlike the Cercanias, where signs at least vaguely pointed you to the platform you wanted to wait at, here, we were in a large, multi-level bus complex. After crossing off the possibility that it was an above-ground bus stop, we returned to the bus station and actually looked at a complicated, detailed map inside. There, we finally determined we needed to wait at platform (Dársena) 26 on “Island” (Isla) 2, on level (nivel) -3 for bus 724. While waiting, we did notice that there were two stops in Manzanares, but because no one else seemed to mention this confusion in the sparse writings we found, we decided not to worry about it. We would disembark when we saw a castle.

That plan worked perfectly. After telling our bus driver we wanted to stop at Manzanares and paying our fare, we sat back and enjoyed the view for forty minutes, letting the excitement build. Jonny would likely not use the words “enjoy” or “excitement” through a majority of this ride – he is unfortunately rather susceptible to bus-sickness, what with the high center of gravity, unforgiving stale air, and toxic bus fumes, and this is a rough route to have such issues on. Regardless, he survived, and even in his sickened state, he appreciated the amazing views as well.

As we drew closer to our destination, the mountains I spend each morning ogling at from a distance on my way to work came into view and grew larger and more impressively beautiful with each kilometer until it was impossible to see their entirety through the bus windows. I swiveled my head fiercely on each turn, hoping to permanently burn their spectacular wonder into my mind.

In Wisconsin, we have rolling hills, but we don’t have mountains. The first time I saw the Appalachian Mountains, I was equally as awestruck as I was on this tilt-a-whirl bus ride. My dad was amused by my naïve delight, saying I had not seen mountains until I saw the Rockies. And so I went and saw the Rockies, and he was correct. I do not think these Madrid mountains - the Sierra de Guadarrama - were as large, but they take the cake in their unique design. To me, these mountains looked as if they were nothing but large piles of smooth, sandy colored granite boulders that had been stacked by giants in a haphazard fashion. A few would shoot up out of the ground in a jagged fashion, but most looked as if they had been meticulously polished, threatening to roll down into the fields below before smashing into a million tiny boulders like those that had imprinted themselves on the ground below them.

Eventually the Rio Manzanares revealed itself on our left, reflecting the glare of cloudless sky on this warm January afternoon and reminding me of my favorite summer trip to the Lake with my family. It was mere moments before the castle we had come all this way to see, and the quaint little town it hid itself within, appeared before us on the right.

The bus left us at the bottom of the hill leading to the castle and the town of Manzanares el Real itself. It was mid-afternoon and in usual Spanish/European fashion, the outside plazas were filled with people chatting away as they feasted on their lunches. On the tower of the church directly in front of us, storks (at least I think they were storks) had constructed giant nests, and their clacking sound filled our ears as they soared through the air.

The birds in their giant nests, settling in for the night. 

Though small, The Castle of the Mendoza looked just as you would expect a castle to. It  had a square layout, with a tower on each corner, inside and out. We determined we would not buy the tickets to go in. We were on a budget and the reviews on Trip Advisor indicated that the remodeled interior really wasn't worth it. Perhaps we will return and see for ourselves in the future, but for now we were beyond satisfied with the free exploration to be had. For those that do wish to enter, as of now, the prices are: five euro for regular admission; three euro for ages 3-13 and over 60; free for children under 3 and people with physical disabilities. We bypassed the ticket hut and wandered up a short path of shaded stairs until we were standing face-to-face with this archaic wonder.

Speakers had been installed throughout the exterior, and they played period music, reminding me of the Renaissance Faire back home, and making me feel slightly silly. I warmed to it after a while, unable to be sour with such upbeat tunes in my ears while we admired a building erected just under 600 years ago.

The castle was constructed in 1475, at a time when less than 300 people were living in Madrid. It was commissioned by Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, the 1st Duke of the Infantado to replace the older, simpler castle his father had resided in. It was completed within four years by the 2nd Duke, with the assistance of Juan Guas, the architect for the Catholic Monarchs.

We wandered around the castle, peaking into tiny window slots in an effort to see what we could from the outside its orange, granite bricks until we discovered that we were allowed, without tickets, to pass through the grand entrance of the structure and explore its immediate interior! We savored the beautiful view of the entrance – a large brick pathway with turrets encapsulating a gigantic doorway and an extraordinary view of the charming town surrounding it – and then we continued on.

The inside walkway was interesting enough, allowing you to surround the entire building and peak through the keyhole-shaped window slots. For how difficult it was to find any information about this destination or its historical significance, we marveled at how intact it was. All but a few windows seemed perfectly preserved, so much so we questioned the whole thing’s authenticity.
















After taking our time soaking it all in, we left the castle’s interior and decided, on this very warm January day to have a picnic overlooking the river on a balcony that had been built into the ground next to the castle.

It had truly been a wonderful adventure, a much needed relaxing trip the day before Jonny began his Spring Semester of school. We packed up our picnic, gazed one last time at the castle, and decided we would take a leisurely stroll through the small, semi-touristy town before heading home. There was, after all, not much more to this beautiful place.

But then, indulging my need to read every informational sign available to me, we discovered our journey was far from over. While reading the brief description of this castle on a nearby pillar, we discovered this castle had been commissioned to replace the old castle nearby. Another castle! We wasted no more time and followed the map, giddy as could be about the two-for-one windfall that had just been bestowed upon us.

While it may have been a castle at one point, all that remains of the vaguely referenced structure is its foundation, a cemetery filled with fake flowers and dilapidated graves, and unfortunately a lot of garbage. A sign near the ruins noted there was not a lot of information on when this castle was built, who built it, or who even lived in it. The only record they had was a passing reference that was made during the construction of its replacement, Manzanares 2.0. Overlooking the disrespectful trash strewn through the turret’s foundation and in the cemetery, we were happy to be standing there in a second castle – or what remained of it – contemplating its mysteries while taking it some more wonderful views of the mountains. And still our day was far from over. The best was yet to come.

What remains of the "Old Castle"

The Cemetery adjacent to the ruins of the "Old Castle"

How could this day get any better than a castle and a half? The answer lay in the portion of the “Camino de Santiago” that passes through this area making it possible for us to enjoy the most incredible hike we have gone on to date. The sun was still shining high and bright in the sky, and we were inspired by our most recent discovery to see what we could find even further off the beaten path. We followed a road that turned into a pathway towards the foot of the most beautiful portion of the mountain where green overgrowth speckled portions of its ascent, with the surrounding boulders growing more immense at each turn.

One of my favorite discoveries on this walk was a pasture, adjacent to the mountain’s initial incline. Therein lay a massive granite boulder that looked as if it had rolled down the hill during the giant’s careless construction.On our return passage, the pasture had been filled with dozens of cows, all adorned with a bell abruptly as they kept their heads to the ground feasting on grasses to their heart’s content.

We wandered deeper and higher until at long, beautiful last, the path leveled out onto a large granite plane, making way for La Ermita de Nuestra Senora de la Pena Sacra, a small church constructed in the 16th Century.

The view here was simply amazing, putting our earlier picnicking choice to shame. As we sat, admiring the intoxicating views, we observed the occasional camino-walker stop to silently pray before the building, and the periodic local arrive to sit over the ledge and smoke a cigarette. Three dogs appeared at one point, and I watched them circle the building merrily, playing in the random rain puddles formed within divots of the granite. It was all so incredibly cathartic.



I have been fortunate to live out many unbelievable experiences. I have driven as far east and west as the United States can allow; I have relaxed on the beaches of the Bahamas, Florida, Valencia, and the Canary Islands; I have tended to baby rhinos, giraffe and koala bears; I have performed professionally on stage with tigers and magicians; I have explored several enigmatic complexes of kings and queens. Each realization has, in turn, opened my eyes to the possibility of more discoveries and adventures that lie in wait for me, hoping to become known. I have loved each one in turn, all of them showing me what it means to feel alive and proud of my accomplishments. But this unplanned discovery has been the most purifying, majestic journey of my life to date. We almost overlooked this opportunity due to the dismal advertising of its wonders. Maybe it is best to keep it away from the prying eyes of superficial tourists. But if you want to see how beautiful this region can be, how contentedly happy you can feel simply surrounding yourself in natural wonders, then go, go, go to Manzanares. You absolutely will not regret it.

It is safe to say leaving here brought with it a heavy sadness. Returning to the harsh chaos of the big city and facing the next, long day of work for myself and school for Jonny ran the risk of erasing this high we had been floating on for hours. The sun was setting, and we had no choice but to return. However as we boarded the bus for our journey back, the evening glow lit up the castle that had pulled us to this town in the first place, and I wondered what would come next to rival this joyous adventure.