Spain Trip Diary 1: Return To Castellon and Benicassim

Castellon's Cathedral and Tower, in the town center.

If you were pressed for time and had an entire country full of wonderful sights to visit, would you choose to spend a day retracing steps and visiting old friends? Or would you save precious travel time for new places you haven't seen before?  This was a choice I had to make a few weeks ago, while planning our trip to Spain.  My sense of history took over. I decided to make a stop in Castellon de la Plana, where I completed my MA in Peace and Development Studies exactly 10 years ago. So much has changed in ten years, with the city, and with me. But so much has remained the same - there are things that don't change: the medieval cathedral and the tower beside it; the central market just across the square, the fountain in the middle, the cobblestone steps, and tiny streets with their tiny shops that close for siesta. And my memories of the place - those too are unchanging.  I will always feel forever 21 when I walk Castellon's streets.  

Calle Enmedio, the street of my old school - and the Mango store in the corner.

I was 21 when I received my scholarship to study in Spain, and I moved away from home for the first time. It was my initiation into adulthood, my first taste of life without my parents' protection and support. I learned a lot of painful lessons: for the first time I felt hunger when all shops were closed for holidays and I couldn't feed on the cash in my pockets.  I just had to wait it out, and sleep with an empty stomach, and a lonely heart, in the cold of winter, thousands of miles away from the warmth of family.  That's the thing about Spain. It shuts down when it feels the need to: for siesta and fiesta, for a general strike, or even for an epic football match.  Once, my sister and I waited at a railway station, for a train that didn't come as we made our way home from a day of teaching English in the mountains of Vall d'Uixo.  We decided to finally leave, and we walked across deserted fields in the fading light, encountering no one for too long in the tiny town of Xilxes/Chilches, just outside Valencia.  I couldn't shake off the feeling of isolation I felt then.  

The plaza I passed by daily, for a stop at the Cathedral, and Central Market.

And even now, ten years later, in the deserted plaza of Castellon at siesta time... it all came coming back to me, the loneliness and alienation I once felt here.  Coming from the heat and the hustle, the chaos and color of Manila's streets, Castellon was cold and quiet on most days (unless of course at fiesta time called "Magdalena" when the streets reverberate with bangs and booms of the loudest firecrackers known to man). The loneliness of regular days is probably the reason why I learned to party hard here, to dance and drink until morning came, so I could load up on momentary happiness to fortify me for the long stretches of sadness ahead.  But it wasn't really the parties and people that gave me the most comfort and solace while I was here. It was really the lessons I learned in class - I did learn a lot with my MA, life-changing lessons that fundamentally shook me to the core and left me with new frameworks for seeing the world and my place in it.   My mind opened up here, and learned countless lessons not only from books, but also from conversations with teachers and classmates from all over the world, and also from Spain's streets and the way of life of its people.  Being a Filipino in Spain is an intellectually rewarding experience - one sees so much to reflect on - everywhere - as though every moment offers a means of discovering an antecedent, a cultural root of sorts, an old link in a chain that spans across the ages, and the seas, and leads back home.   

Casa Ana, my favorite cafe for studying, where I learned about Focault, Derrida, Said etc.

I walked past Casa Ana, a cafe I used to frequent.  It was here that I pored over my course readers in philosophy and learned about Focault and Derrida, and Feminism, and Orientalism, among many other "isms" which I came to understand with the help of countless cups of cafe con leche.  It is still here. MY merienda place.  I am happy to see it hasn't changed much - that it is still in the same spot, serving the same food. It takes me back in time, as though I were visiting 2002.  I walked past the Post Office, passing under the arched entryway in front that says Correos y Telegrafos. It is a beautiful brick building with a lovely interior to match. I used to come here to fill up boxes with Spanish goodies to send to my parents, to give them pieces of my life. I always loved this building, and how it linked me to my loved ones.   

Castellon's Correos y Telegrafos, the post office where I sent off boxes headed for home.

Then it was time to meet with old friends who call Castellon home.  "I can't believe you're here! I've missed you!"my good old friend Penny squealed when she saw me. And I wanted to cry.  It's like the distant past collapses with the present.  It is peculiarly disconcerting, how our conversation was so clear, despite the confused time frames.  To hear her voice again, and the distinct way she spoke, it was just like yesterday. "You haven't changed a bit!" she told me. And I couldn't believe what she said. We both changed, of course, profoundly! - but in a way, she was right. It didn't feel like ten years had passed.  She was as I knew her, and perhaps I was, in her presence, how she knew me - even if I am a mother now, and no longer the center of my world as I used to be. It was fun! It was great, great fun to be having tapas in Spain with my Spanish friend. 

Penny at a Tapas Bar in Castellon's La Salera Mall.

Penny drove me to Benicassim, the beach resort town where  students of the Masters Program used to live, where we had many barbecues and brunches, volleyball games on the beach, and parties that drove the neighbors mad... where we cooked dinners for one another, and made family out of strangers... where we laughed and cried, and learned life's lessons, good and bad.  It's a place of love and heartache... which seemed like big, big things back then, when we were in our early twenties.  Now in our thirties, haha... we know better now.   

The entrance to Orange Park, my old apartment complex in Benicassim.

Orange Park hadn't changed at all! It looked exactly the same. The same whitewashed low fence, the same orange sign, the same plants in the same spots. Wow. De ja vu.  I felt like I had walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone.  It was as though I'd see my old dog Sandy, running towards me any moment. I felt like grabbing my rollerblades and gliding down the street.  

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I missed my sister who shared this time in Spain with me... she should have retraced these steps with me too!  Oh well, that's a plan in the making. We can keep returning to Spain at various points in our lives, until we're old and retired. But that's way off in the far, far future. In the near future though, I could imagine returning to Castellon again soon, with my husband and kids.  So I could tell my daughter and son where mommy used to live and study.  Before turning in at the end of my day in Castellon, I stopped by the lovely shop called "Imaginarium" where I picked out Spanish children's books for my kids to read, so they can have a piece of Spain.  

With Sidi, Sophia, and Dori, at the Graduate Building, Universidad Jaume I.

The next morning, I visited the new building in Universitat Jaume I, where the Masters Program now holds its classes.  In a way, I am not "retracing steps" because it is in an entirely new location.  But I got to see familiar faces, of Sophia and Dori who worked with the program back then, a decade ago, and my old classmate Sidi, who is now a doctorado himself, and teaches new batches of students of Peace.

I had no regrets about taking the time to retrace my steps in Castellon and Benicassim.  Yes, there are many cities with great sights to visit all over Spain, but what Castellon and Benicassim have to offer, I cannot find anywhere else. They offer me a chance to revisit friends, re-tell stories, refresh memories, retrace steps, and re-live my personal history - even if only for a moment.  It was good to be back.