|The lighthouse of Cudillero|
Cudillero – coastal, charming, and fifty shades of green. *sigh*
Settling back into a routine of balancing work, family, and fun has been difficult. Not only does the mercury in Madrid continue to dance above and around 30 degrees (celsius ya’ll!), but my mind is clouded with daydreams of barefoot toes and mojitos. The carefree days of summer may be a couple of weeks behind us, but they’re still visible in the rearview mirror. The temperatures are a reminder of that. But just when I’ve reached my limit of heat and stress, the sun begins to set on the Spanish capital, the temperatures fall, and I remember Cudillero.
Owning a car and living in a major metropolis seems, well, unncessary. It’s true that the public transit system can get you anywhere you need to go. But, where you need to go and where you want to go are quite different. Sure, I need to get to work, but do I want to go to work? *insert Spanish shoulder shrug* When Jeff and I are on our own time, our free time, what we want are wide open spaces – freedom of the open road. We’re willing to go anywhere four wheels and a tank of gas will take us, and Asturias was our first roadtrip destination.
Beautiful, mountainous, chilly, green Asturias; a contradiction of Madrid in every way. Even as I sit here comfortable in my living room, a cool early evening breeze blowing through the open doors, I’m distracted by thoughts of verdant mountains and crisp nights in the little fisherman’s village of Cudillero. We spent little more than forty-eight hours there, and much of that time was spent behind the wheel. Why? Because we wanted to. We zig-zagged up and around forested mountains, visited a bee and blackberry farm, explored a secluded beach, and stumbled upon a locals-only restaurant serving up the most unbelievable BBQ platter one has ever set out to devour in a single sitting. These little discoveries may seem ordinary, but having traded the suburban life for that of a concrete jungle I realize that I crave the connection with all things green and natural each time I assume the role of navigator in the passenger seat. We have to drive a bit further to find it in central Spain, but when we do my senses are once again awakened to what I want, and in this case what I also need.
Cudillero is calling me back…