Yesterday, we had our second excursion to the national park thing of Hoce del rio Duratón. Near Segovia, this little paradise had a long path down to the very old church de San Frutos (yes, St. Fruits) and a majestic river. Location duly added to very favorite places in the world. Seriously, everything was so beautiful it was unreal: the weather, the ruins, the view, the slight breeze with a hint of moisture from the river, the smell, AHHH. Spanish life lesson 16: No matter how fantastic human-made architecture and art is, nothing compares to straight-up natural magnificence. Please book a ticket immediately to Spain because I'm really doing an inadequate job of explaining.
Surriously unreal
Finding inner balance
After spending some time pondering life while sitting on a cliff overlooking a river (apologies for the pretentiousness), we made our way back to the bus and onto the small Spanish city of Sepúlveda where we spent a lovely afternoon exploring the town, taking the wrong trails, etc. Spanish life lesson 17: No jumping pictures until the end of the day, lest you twist your ankle so you can't walk anywhere and have to go to the hospital (sorry, Ashley).
Blondes, beware
Gladys had told us that there would be a futból game in the evening, so we all pounced on this opportunity to see the (potentially) last game of the season for Valladolid. Getting back to our city, we all had about forty minutes to go home, shower/change/eat/etc, and get to Plaza Mayor, and as walking anywhere takes at least 10-15 minutes minimum, you may imagine the mad scramble that ensued. Katarina y yo ran from our house to the Plaza (very typical. We are the only people ever running anywhere in the city) and after some frustrations with the buses, we found the correct one and hopped on.
Due to the bus confusion, we arrived a little bit late so when we approached the stadium, we heard the crowd's roar of "GOOOOALLLL!" As we went to buy tickets, we learned that instead of the anticipated £5, it was going to cost £20, which is like $30. Now, if you know me, you know that I don't love sports enough to pay that much for mediocre seats for not even a whole game, so it seemed that we were skunked. Just then, a shady scalper slunk out of the shadows with the offer of four tickets at £15 each. Too rich for my blood, I rejected the offer, though those tickets were quickly snatched up by a few members of the group. Some of the girls were talking to other Spaniards who were also fans and they all kind of wandered off, while Ashley (a different one than the previously mentioned ankle victim), Leah and I assessed our next move (food, naturally). Just then, the scalper returned, this time with the offer of tickets ten euros each. We were very skeptical, but we gave it a chance with the agreement that the guy had to come with us in case the tickets didn't work. They didn't (invalid for resale) but we fortunately got our money back. This was just an irritating situation as we had worked hard to get there with the running and the bussing and the botched scalping, so we went to fetch the rest of the group so that we may eat our woes away.
We walked the perimeter of the stadium to see the other girls clustered together. We started to tell them about the scalper and that we were going back to the bus, but they interrupted, buzzing excitedly that the three fans they were talking to got them on the ins with an important-looking man in a suit who worked there. They were going to let us in! Suddenly, we were all rushed in through a back door and up the stairs (don't worry mom, I was constantly on the defense and ready to fight; you have taught me well to fear white slavery in Europe, especially with a bunch of blondes in company) and arrived in THE STADIUM! So after being this close to giving up, we were sitting second and third rows to this awesome game FO' FREE. I could not get over the excellence of the situation.
He gets knocked down, but he got up again (Valladolid is purple anyway)
VALLADOLID WINS!
In summary: Nature. Beauty. Jesus. Singing. Hiking. Small Spanish cities. Parkour. Racing against the clock. New friends. Futból. Victory. Spanish Fanta. Waka waka. Ladies dressed like Sevillanas who give you broken fans that you can make into fancy headdresses. Duncan, a frightening but kind British boy dressed like Michael Jackson.
What a glorious day.
What a glorious day.
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