TEFLees in Spain

One of the great things about this city, as any true gato can attest, is its central location and ease of access to surrounding small town tourist day trips. Although I haven’t exactly made the most of this opportunity (as it’s taken me the better part of a year to simply cross over to the other side of Madrid’s mountains), I’ll refrain from cursing myself for such procrastinations, and instead say that if anything it was well worth the wait. And while the arid landscape of central Spain has offered little exploratory motivation with its sullenness of sandy scenery, as I discovered last weekend when my folks came to visit, the grass is actually greener on the other side – of the mountains at least – and luckily for us madrileños, it’s only a hop, skip, and jump away.

So what lies beyond yonder hills? Well, Segovia, of course. Typically mentioned in the same breath as its twin daytrip counterpart Toledo, Segovia is a medieval island in a sea of green, with snowy mountain peaks looming quietly in the distance.

Not quite as closed in and quiet as the dark alleys of Toledo, Segovia’s airy streets were bustling with the comings and goings of tourists and locals alike upon our arrival; all life emanating outward from its pulsing center: the ancient Roman aqueduct. Now, I’d heard from people before about the “majesty and magnificence” of this freestanding architectural wonder, but I always shrugged it off as euphoria-induced, touristy hype. What could be so impressive about an aqueduct? Big deal – they had plumbing. Congratulations, Segovia. I bet you didn’t even have hot water. Your water pressure was probably rubbish as well, and I don’t even want to think about your filtration system. It’s not necessary to paint the whole picture, but let’s just say that that hunchbacked-dude who lived alone upstream at the top of the mountain is still laughing in his grave, so don’t get too cocky about it.

Cynicisms aside however, as soon as we stepped off the bus, we were, like a slap in the face, standing in the cool shadow of the aqueduct’s hundred foot high, multi-leveled stone façade. Staring down at us tauntingly and stretching off out of eyeshot in both directions, its smoothly symmetrical solid stone slabs seemed each to weigh a ton apiece as they rocketed impossibly upwards into the clear Segovian sky. The blocks were set so perfectly on this masterpiece of ancient engineering that I could do little more than stand, mouth agape, in perplexed amusement and deep thought. First of all, how much manual labor must it have taken to transport these massive quantities of raw rock? How precise must those cuts have been for it to withstand so many centuries of weather and wars? How’d they manage to keep the water constantly flowing so as to quench the thirst of the entire town? Whose big idea was this anyway? Little time was wasted in pondering these questions though – this was after all a day trip. The clock was ticking, our time was waning, and I still had a castle, a cathedral, and a cuchinillo to catch.