When I was working out what I would do in Spain between my two conferences, I came upon a brief mention of Peñíscola in a guidebook. I did my k-12 education in Pensacola, FL. Most people believe the FL version is a misspelled version of the Spanish one (misspelled ’cause Florida), so I wanted to check in on my namesake. Would their high school mascot be the Tigers too?
It should have been fairly simple to get to Peñíscola–a regional train could move me between stations, and I was assured there would be plenty of cabs.
But my regional train was delayed–and then the train went slower than usual, so I ended up getting to the train station 5 hours later than I should have. A station agent called a cab for the group of us hanging out by the station, and then each cab driver who arrived said they would radio in for another one, until the group was whittled down to me.
The station is not scenic, unless you’re into graffiti, and it was by an industrial plant with a weird smell.
After 45 minutes, it was finally my turn. My cabdriver was distressed when he learned my hotel was on the castle hill. Cabs don’t go there at night, when all the tourists are out. I had to listen to him complain about having to drop me off outside of the castle walls to his boss. “No,” he said in Spanish, “I can’t talk to her; she’s English.”
I was super cranky when we finally got there; navigating the steep little walkways didn’t help.
But the staff at Hotel Joanna was excited when I finally arrived. They showed me to my adorable room, and I ventured to their restaurant for food and this view of the moon over the Mediterranean.
Things were definitely looking up in the morning. First, there was this breakfast for hotel guests:
Second, I had realized I didn’t pack properly for Spain. All of the other women were going around in either shorts or sun dresses. Even women my grandmother’s age were rocking hot sun dresses! Naturally, I thought about how my culture wants women of my age and curviness to cover up. But when in Spain . . .
In Zaragoza, right before I left, I picked up a sun dress in a boutique by my hotel.
It wasn’t my usual style. The question I asked myself while shopping was “which one would my new boyfriend want me to wear.”
I put it on for my one full day in Peñíscola.
It was very hot, so I sweated all through my clothes, but I did manage to go to the Museum of the Sea and the Castle.
The Castle was built, centuries ago, by Templars, on the ruins of a Moorish temple they destroyed. After hiking up through the castle and not falling over, even though I and this sign were worried about it, I thought about going to the garden, but I just didn’t have it in me to make it down there. Both the castle and the garden have been featured in Game of Thrones.
I took a nap and graded my students’ work. Then I headed back out for souvenirs and a walk down to the Mediterranean, to finally get my feet in.
I had yummy fish for dinner, house-made strawberry and lemon ice cream, and a serving of a rice-based digestive.
Although I looked all over, Peñíscola just doesn’t have postcards. I guess they’re tired of the jokes?
The next morning, I had my last breakfast there, read the warnings about the extreme heat wave (they said trains might not work, since the tracks could warp, in addition to the regular awful things that heat does) and then left for Valencia.
I got to the train station early, only to discover that the station was arranged weirdly. In most stations, platform 1 is right beside the terminal. Here, the signs all said that Platform 2 was–and then you got 1 and 3.
I asked the station agent if indeed the layout made no sense. He confirmed the weirdness, and I spent my remaining time there explaining, in Spanish, to Spaniards, how the station worked. It was standing-room only on the train for a few hours, but at last I arrived in Valencia, which I’ll write about next.
