After getting off the train in Avila, John and I notice that the weather has dropped about 15 degrees since leaving Madrid, plus the sky is overcast and rainy. Any time we decide to take a vacation anywhere, it’s COLD. Only after I return to Madrid do I discover that Avila has the reputation of being a notoriously cold town.
We follow the “Tourist Information” signs which instead lead us to the walled city: it’s impressive, especially with the backdrop of angry clouds. This is what I love about escaping the big city on the occasional weekend — I feel as if I’ve stepped into another century. I imagine the 15th or 16th century royalty bustling about inside the walled plazas, the guards stationed on the towers overlooking the town, on a day as rainy as this.
Since I haven’t come prepared for such weather, we do what we always do best: go on a coffee and lunch tour of the place. Various coffees, some beers, a kebab (because never again will I voluntarily eat another bocadillo) and some excellent conversation. We pride ourselves on the fact that at least we stepped foot outside the train station, and that we DID go up on the wall, even if for a short while. We must come back one day in the spring when Spain’s weather lives up to its expectations.