After Valencia I traveled on to CUENCA, SPAIN. Miles of burned vineyards later and I stepped off the train platform into a bland concrete block. Not what I was expecting. Cuenca isn’t exactly on the tourist radar, but I’d seen my friend Tim’s Instagram photos of hanging cliff houses and endless winding rivers, and it did not look like this.
All of a sudden Tim was running up to me in the train station, bright orange harem pants, lobster red sunburn and all. Then, he was whisking me off and away, out of what he terms the “armpit” of Cuenca, and into “the really nice pectoral part.”
I mean look at that photo. Cuenca is a babe.
Tim, my friend from day 1 of college, is spending our first post grad year working for the Spanish government and teaching English in the villages around Cuenca. My visit was pretty much just a convenient excuse to see him, as Cuenca is positioned right in between Valencia and Madrid. It was an incredible 24 hours complete with gluten free cheese cake made in a Spanish home at a dinner party where we all wore strange party hats the whole time and Tim translated for me.
View of tiny Jesus, as Tim calls this statue, overlooking Cuenca. At night the statue is lit up but it gets so dark you cannot see the hill – it just looks like tiny Jesus is floating in the sky over Cuenca.
My wonderful host!
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