Posts Tagged ‘oviedo’

I was waiting at the bus stop today, on my way to the pool (it’s cloudy but still warm enough to brave the outdoor pool) and after a while I thought ‘the bus is a bit late, that’s unusual.’ Then I noticed that attached to the bus stop on a scratty bit of paper, there was a notification that today and tomorrow a number of changes would take place to the bus schedules. So I walked.

En route, I saw why. Tomorrow, Fernando Alonso and the Renault F1 roadshow is in town. Well they’re in town now, putting blocks of concrete (on the radio they called them New Jersey Blocks, which I quite liked) and fencing around the 2km circuit. So no cars, no busses.

They’re expecting 100,000 people tomorrow. Alonso is from Oviedo, he’ll be driving last year’s F1 car. I have my earplugs…

35km ascent 530m, descent 520m

A month ago Julio had mentioned that he wanted to do the GR105 (Gran Recorrido, big route), also known as the Rivayagüe (after the name of the walking group that set the route up… now known as Grupo Naranco, the group we go walking with). I passed on the mention to Liz, who said ‘let’s do it’ so last Tuesday at 6:15am we left the house and started walking to Covadonga (a total trip of 107km). The route is normally done in seven stages but we planned to do it in four by doubling up some of the stages and walking all day.

It was dark when we set off and after half an hour we reached the village of Covadonga (okay, four houses and a sign: same name as our ultimate destination but really the beginning of the route). There’s a little chapel there which is the real start. The sun began peeping over the hills to the east and we had a fine view of the Aramo range to the south (in the photo)… we’ll be walking over that in a couple of weeks too.

Just to the east of the city there are lots of low hills and it is like walking along country paths in the UK, maybe a little more overgrown because of the combination of a few more degrees of heat, and the same amount of rain. I’ve never seen nettles south of the Cantabrian mountains but they’re all over the place here. We strolled along wide paths and tracks, and by about 11am we’d finished the first stage (of the seven stage version) and were all set for something to eat.

A couple of hours later, after one wrong turn and a kilometre along the main road to regain the path (where there were hundreds of tiny lizards basking in the hot sun scampering out of the way as we came) we came up the hill to the village of Lamuño. We happily shucked our backpacks off and had a cider shandy (too hot for just alcohol). The landlady was wiping the counter top and Julio asked if she could make us something to eat… a tortilla or something… oh yes.

We lounged in the shade of some trees outside the bar while the landlady did her stuff in the kitchen and kept coming out to help Julio get a phone signal and chat. And had more cider shandy (cider with casera, which is the Spanish version, and much like ´normal´ lemonade in the UK… when it’s hot you often hear people asking for wine and casera… which sounds like heresy, until you taste the wine on its own, then you realise you have to put casera in it sometimes).

We wolfed the tortilla when it came, warm and oniony with the tiniest flecks of chorizo giving it some additional flavour. Then we had blue cheese and dulce (quince paste) and a bit more cider shandy.

Reluctantly we re-shouldered the packs (plomo, said Julio – lead) and continued. Similar paths led us to a recreation area on top of a hill a couple of hours later and we stopped to take in the views and the sun. Then we descended into Basoredo in Alto del Espinadal about an hour after that. We were staying in Hotel-restaurante El Titi (no sniggering). Julio taught us a couple of card games as we waited for the restaruant to open (at 8:30pm) then we ate and had an early night. The only problem was, when we asked about breakfast (planning to be up at 7 and away at 7:30) the staff said there’d be someone up and about to get breakfast at 9am so we asked them to make a few sandwiches. They brought a bag of tortilla sandwiches (it would keep the bread from going dry). Then it was off to our rooms (ours had a dormer window about eight feet up, with a strange bench on a shelf arrangement so you could watch the mountains. Julio had pointed out our path for the next morning, up… up into the mountains in Piloña.

So after a brief interlude in the UK, packing up the contents of the house ready for the tenant to move in, listening to the cricket for four days, watching the rain dance its way across the Pennines, we arrived back in Asturias on Monday afternoon to a lethargic, humid heat.

That lasted all of two days, because yesterday it rained a bit… a lot… it caught a lot of people off guard (even though the weather forecast was right on the money), girls in strappy tops and gladiator sandals trudging round looking miserably wet.

On the TV weather last night they showed Murcia having a top temperature of 42C. Oviedo had 18C (well, it felt a little warmer, but not, you know, hot). I’m all in favour of this sort of thing as 40C is not a temperature for Anglo Saxons (or Celts)…

The other thing that seemed to change is Nemesis the seagull, he’s not so agressive now, and we noticed the other night that there are three chicks (well, they’re a bit big to be called chicks) on the roof opposite. They flap their wings ineffectually and make whingy teenage-seagull noises while mum and dad flap around being proud. So we have our terrace back. Just in time for the rain…

It started a couple of weeks ago. I stepped out onto the terrace to read in the sunlight (for a few minutes before anyone gets any ideas about me actually sunbathing). Seconds later there was a squawk and it came, swooping down from the sky, making that awk awk sound and crapping.

The same thing happened the next time.

And the next…

I had a nemesis.

Nemesis the seagull. He’s there now, on the top of the crane opposite. He’s a bit protective of his territory, and he’s decided, without consulting me, that his territory includes my terrace. As soon as he spots me his neck extends and he gives a warning squawk. If I stand my ground he seems to shrug his birdy shoulders as if to say ‘I’ve told him a million times, but he just won’t listen’ and drops off his perch. He dive bombs and squawks and craps and doesn’t get bored of it.

Today is martes de campo (country Tuesday), a holiday for those of us who work in Oviedo. It was in early May last year and it was chilly… this year it isn’t.

The UV index around midday was 8 (in the UK I thought it only went up to 5… ah well, maybe I’ve got my data from a different scale). The sun was a little fierce so I kept to the shade as I wandered with my camera. In Parque San Francisco, in the city centre, people began queuing for bollos preñados (bread baked with a chorizo inside) and wine… the traditional picnic fare for today. There was a bigger queue at the Saturn van (Saturn is a big electronics retailer, think Dixons) for their free straw hats.

Bands of pipers marched through the streets, followed by bands of other stripes, cuban, jazz and the like. The sun made a big difference.

I sat on the grass watching the goings on, with a bottle of cider (if I’m going to have a bottle to myself, cider is a better choice than wine), practicing my pouring and munching on chorizo-y bread.

Days off are lovely.

You realise of course that while we’re here, it’s hot and sunny back home? Originally uploaded by itsjustanalias.

There appear to be two main groups of tourists wandering the streets of Oviedo; Northerners and Southerners.

Southerners appear to be Spanish, visiting the funny Asturians looking at bagpipe players, drinking cider, eating fabada and generally having a fine time while wearing a couple of extra layers of clothing and handling an umbrella with a dazed expression (rain? in May? all week?).

Northerners appear to be English, German, Dutch or American, and are easily identified by their readiness to wear spaghetti strap tops, flip-flops, shorts and other summer items while the temperature hovers around 17C and everyone else is debating whether to wear the fur coat or the leather jacket. They can also have a dazed expression (we’re in Spain? But it’s pissing down!).

Ne’er cast a clout ’till May is out, they say in Yorkshire. Well here the saying translates as: Don’t take your coat off until the fortieth of May.

Apologies to the Wyke clan who spent a chilly weekend in Asturias while the UK had the warmest days of the year so far.

Aerial View Of Vatican City Originally uploaded by plemeljr.

There are two multiplexes in Oviedo, one within walking distance, the other needs a bus, and an awareness of the finish time of the film (or a bus and taxi). They both show pretty much the same programme, which doesn’t include anything not in Spanish. They’re not big on V.O. releases here, apparently there is a cinema in Gijon which does them sometimes…

We don’t let that stop us though… I still like going to the cinema once a week or so. I was tempted to go and see ‘Let the right one in’ the other day but I reckon I’ll wait and see it in an original version with subtitles… some films just need to be seen with the original performances because, despite the skill of the dubbers, something is lost when you see dubbed films.

I saw Star Trek last week, and it was fine… they included Chekov’s difficulty with his w’s but Scotty! By all accounts Simon Pegg’s accent was geographically diverse but all I got was some slightly differently accented Spanish (I still can’t really tell accents apart, some of the South American ones yes).

Yesterday I went to the cinema intending to see something worthy but there wasn’t anything like that on (until 11pm… and I wasn’t going to hang around) so I did Angeles y Demonios. Which, as the Kermode said (I listened to the podcast this morning) is the stupidest film for a very long time. I was waiting for the equivalent of the ‘Get me to a library, now.’ line from the DaVinci rubbish and sure enough… with a straight face and daft hair Tom Hanks said ‘I need a map of Rome with all of the churches on, now.’

The exposition was a little hard to follow and the wayward Northern Irish by way of Tasmania accent from Ewan McGregor was utterly lost (apparently no big loss there) but the last half hour was laugh out loud utterly stupid. I had low expectations and they failed to be met by some considerable degree. The additional effort required to keep up in another language made it bearable… in English I’m pretty sure I would have been throwing things at the screen.

The weather in March was occasionally lovely, sunny and warm… as we wandered around the city we noticed though, that most of the cafes that have outdoor seating in the summer months had not put their chairs out. There are a few that provide all year round outdoor eating, usually with patio heaters and under some sort of cover, but it struck us as strange that they wouldn’t put their chairs out when the weather was warm.

Then on April the 1st it all changed, everyone got the chairs out and the weather got colder.

I don’t know if it’s a byelaw or just the way things are done, but it’s a pretty coordinated chair event.

Day 23 (11.06.08): Al Mercado del Fontan Originally uploaded by ladykat.

Liz, being healthy and wise in these matters, buys a lot of fruit and veg. And, wanting to support the local economy, often buys them from the old girls outside the market on a Thursday or Saturday. A few weeks ago, as she was leaving, laden with kale, cabbage, potatoes and leeks, the lady she was buying from popped an egg in her pocket with a sort of knowing wink.

I think this was a code and we’ve now cracked it. The selling of eggs by these ladies is very furtively done. They keep them out of sight and they look around before actually getting them out. We think it’s not really allowed, maybe they’re only allowed to sell veg, and not even the broadest definition of the local law (unlike, for example, my definition of fruit to include cheese – fruit of the cow) let’s them do it openly, so they just ignore the rules and get on with it.

Yesterday Liz bought some eggs from one lady and later, as we were leaving, another quietly said ‘¿Quieres huevos?’

This week was carnival. Unsurprisingly they do things differently here: no Jif lemon day for a start (mind you that’s not a major problem because you can get pancakes most places). Instead they do carnival, and not just on fat Tuesday either, they spread it out so in Avilés it was on Saturday, in Gijon on Tuesday and in Oviedo yesterday. We went with Maria Jesús and Covadonga to Avilés last week for the early part of the evening, a parade of floats combined with a lot of foam. They said that pretty much everyone is in fancy dress and they weren’t kidding. It’s unusual to see so many adults in costume without the aid of alcohol. The yoot turned up in waterproofs and had fun in the foam and water cannons, then went home and changed into their costumes.

Oviedo is said to be much tamer, although they too had a parade of floats (sans foam this time) and folk in costume. There was a drumming nun troupe (silver habits and faces, I don’t think any of them had actually taken holy orders and there was the group of non-politically-correct burka-wearing folk (whose burkas were fashioned from vyleda mop material…

Then later, in the street, there were hordes of yoot again in fancy dress, again without the support of excess alcohol. We saw doctors, nurses, mini mouses, Jasons, Princes Valiant, Spider men, hippies, TV heads, cats, dogs, cowboys and girls, cross dressers and chickens… all doing what they normally do on Saturday nights, only in costume. I did feel a little craving for some Jif lemon though…