No te vayas de Navarra

I wrote this post back in July, heartbroken at the thought of leaving Tudela. But fate intervened and my last weekend in Tudela, I got an email: a spot in Tudela had just opened up, I could stay if I wanted to. It took all of about half a second to realize I didn't want to go to Madrid. Now that the dust is finally settling (turns out changing your plans at the last minute like that leads to a million logistical nightmares), I finally have time to get this posted, my goodbye to Tudela turned list of reasons why I can´t wait to be back in September!

Tudela. Its charming casco antiguo with perfectly cobblestoned streets, the colorful houses, and tiny plazas filled with fountains or statues.

Even the parts of Tudela´s casco antiguo that are falling into disrepair still manage to enchant, the run down houses converted into the perfect canvas for works of art.

The Plaza de Fueros, the heart of the town, beautiful every day of the year whether its glowing with Christmas lights during winter or bathed in sunlight on a perfect March spring day or packed with red and white during Fiestas in July. The gazebo adorned with the names of famous Navarrans, the tiles depicting the coats of arms of the surrounding towns in the Ribera, the umbrella covered terraces where I could sit for hours with a mosto or iced coffee or caña, just watching the steady stream of Tudelanos on their way to and from school, work, shopping, going about their daily life.

Summers in Tudela, when the sleepy town wakes up as the warm weather pulls everyone out into the streets to tomar algo and the youth of Tudela who have fled to nearby cities for work or school come home. The heat is usually tempered by the ever present cierzo winds, and sitting in the shade of a terraza with a little breeze flying down the street and a cold drink in your hand is heaven.

The Ebro River. The old men playing bocce in the park every day after siesta, kids fishing, sitting on a bench along the river reading and enjoying the arid plateaus in the distance, that distinctive Tudela landscape, the beautiful sandy hues in the bridge as the sun sets, and Jesus perched up on top of the hill, keeping a watchful eye on Tudela down below. In typical Tudela fashion, you can't go anywhere without striking up a conversation with a complete stranger. Today it's a sweet mum with her three toddlers, apologizing for bothering me, and her dad, the cutest little Tudela abuelo who asks me in broken English "Hello. Where are you from?". It's like adopting a family, by the end of the afternoon, the three-year-old is offering me his crackers and the two-year-old is holding onto my bench for support while she tries to walk. .

Days on the dock, enjoying a beer or ice cream or picnic lunch, while dipping your toes into the cool water and hoping the siluro swamp monsters don´t attack (I thought everyone was making this up til I saw photographic evidence. Forget about Nessy, the Ebro is the real deal!)

Store windows filled with white and red clothes announcing the start of summer, a.k.a. fiestas season! Suddenly the red pañuelicos are everywhere and everyone has the fiesta schedule of all the nearby towns memorized "Quick, the cohete in Castejón is at 6 tonight, everyone in the car for a spontaneous fiesta!" you´ll hear, before you realize no one in the car actually knows how to get to Castejón...

The sound of a gaitero, serenading the dancing gigantes. The smell of chistorra. The bins overflowing with enormous tomates feos at every vegetable store. The borraja croquetas. The silhouette of a stork flying overhead. The distinctive, fruity taste of pacharan.

I can´t imagine living anywhere else- or even traveling anywhere else. Starting to look into potential trips from Madrid next year, I found myself closing pages of flights to Venice or Switzerland to go back and search for a millionth time for the train schedule to Tudela or Pamplona. Tudela became my home this year- I can give "foreigners" directions when they stop me on the street, I can't walk down the street without running into someone I know, my students chase me down the street to say hi or give me a hug or introduce me to their mom and dad, it's rare to go out for a night without one of the bartenders treating us to a round or throwing in some extra food (or even the occasional bottle of wine on the house *You're here every night, I know you'll pay me back*). Tudela. This tiny, rundown town in the Ribera of Navarra, forgotten by all the guidebooks, all the tours of Spain (even most of the tours of Navarra!) somehow, improbably, stole my heart.

I´ll be back soon Tudela!