ADVENTURES IN SEGOVIA
A friend suggested that I not avoid day trips; in fact, it might be a great way to connect with people. She was not the only person who suggested looking into tours. I have noticed other travelers abandoning the notion that tours are only for novice tourists. I did my research and found a highly reviewed touring company via Viator. It could have been that the reviews of Julià Travel were excellent, or that the travel company shared the same name as my grandmother, which was comforting. Either I would later find out that I had chosen wisely.
I chose a cool, cloudy day, knowing I would find photography easier if I had the benefit of diffused light, and I would not get hot walking around a new city. When I arrived in Segovia, I was immediately struck by the city's grand architecture and romantic style. The first stop was at the Alcázar of Segovia, a medieval castle dating back to the 12th century. Originally the royal family's home, the castle is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. Each room, even the ceilings, has incredible detail. The view from the terrace was the most inspirational. I could almost imagine a young maiden climbing the interior stairs, racing along the stone terrance, and looking out from the moss-covered wall in search of visitors. I looked out and anticipated seeing a group of riders on horseback and the singular person carrying a banner. Were they friend or foe? The buzzing in my earpiece from the tour guide signaled the time to move on. I looked again over the wall; no riders approached, and no young woman looked between the stone wall. The vision was gone.
After leaving the castle, we set out for the Segovia Cathedral, also known as the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption and of Saint Fructus. It is one of the last Gothic cathedrals in Europe. Although the outside was remarkable, once inside, I was transported back in time again. The vaulted arches of the cathedral rang with the sound of Gothic music, as a man sat in front of the two-story organ belting away. I would not have been surprised if bats had flown down from the rafters, but none had appeared; only collections of families had visited the chapels surrounding the central nave. Each chapel had incredibly ornate depictions of saints, and in one chapel, the Rucumbent Christ by Gregorio Fernandez, a life-like depiction of the Christ at death.
The final stop on our tour was to visit the ancient aqueduct built two thousand years ago! Ancient history is a fond curiosity of mine, with Egyptian and Roman history at the top of the list. Needless to say, I was in awe when I turned a corner and saw the towering structure filling the square. Mesmerized, I took dozens of photos and walked back and forth beneath the stone arches, marveling at the skill of those ancient builders. I ran a hand along one of the stone columns and felt as though I was transported, sensing the sweat and toil of those workers. I could imagine the aqueduct in progress, the sound of stones scraping against each other, pickaxes and chisels, and the hum of groaning men. Even though it was near sundown, I thought I could feel the burning sun against my head and the eyes of a Roman soldier on my back. As suddenly as that vision of the past appeared, it was gone.
I looked around to see the milling tourists, people in cafes, and a few kids running around the square. Then the sky transitioned from light blue to grey, and artificial lights turned on. The magic was gone. The glow from the lights gave the aqueduct a different appearance—stately and impressive—but its form had no magic. I later learned that the aqueduct had been in use until 1973. I sat nearby, enjoying a merienda, and gazed up at the arches, marveling at the remarkable feat of creating something that could last not just years or decades but for millennia.
