September adventures in Madrid and Valencia

 

La Cabrera, Madrid

After six months of lockdown life in our cosy East London flat, the thought of leaving the city, let alone the country, seemed inconceivable. But somehow, our bags were packed, the fridge was emptied, and Jorge and I were heading off to Spain for the month.

Most of our time was spent in La Cabrera, a small town surrounded by mountains in the Sierra Norte de Madrid, with more fresh air than our lungs could handle after the traffic fumes of London. Being so close to the brown, bouldery mountains meant we were met with beautiful views upon opening the curtains each morning. It also meant we spent a lot of time in nature, hiking, walking and scrambling up rocks until our legs were sore. 

We were staying close to the Pico de la Miel hiking trail, which gets its poetic name from the honey pot shaped peak. The climb up is steep but beautiful, and the views at the top are worth the exertion. We tackled the hike three days into our trip, which was a bold move considering we'd spent the last six months mostly sitting down. But what better way to shake off the sedentary lockdown life than to trek up a picturesque Spanish mountain. 

Luckily, there were plenty of tranquil, less ache-inducing walks involved too. We ventured out of town one Saturday to meet some friends for a wholesome day of walking in a lush green fairytale-like forest on the border of Madrid and Guadalajara, followed by a hearty lunch and an afternoon of board games and tea. 

Puerto de Sagunto, Valencia

When we left London, it felt like Autumn had gripped the city. And we knew that by the time we returned, we’d be in for shorter days and wooly socks. Even in Madrid the temperature was beginning to cool down. So spending the last weekend of September soaking up the sun in a Valencian beach town felt like we were stealing back a slice of summer. 

It was the kind of weekend that’s good for the soul; plenty of time spent playing boules on the beach, reading sand covered books, and splashing in the salty Mediterranean sea. Oh, and eating big scoops of leche merengada ice cream (a milky, cinnamon-sprinkled Spanish favourite). I also ate quite possibly the best churros I’ve ever tasted. Strictly speaking, they were porras, which are basically a supersize version of the classic Spanish treat. And I’m not sure what made this particular batch so delicious. But if there’s any better way to start the day than with hot, fresh Spanish pastries dipped in coffee, I’m yet to discover it. 

Pico de la miel

We returned to La Cabrera for one final week before heading back home, spending every day eating an indulgent amount of the fresh figs that grow so abundantly in the garden (I genuinely can't look at another fig again for a while), and hiking up hills alongside the resident town goats, the bells around their necks tinkling behind us. But as we soaked up the final scraps of countryside living, that familiar end of trip feeling washed over us. We were sad to say goodbye, but London was calling, ready to welcome us back into its Autumnal embrace.

¡Hasta luego, España! Until next time...

Fig overload