Huesca is a lovely little Spanish city that is worth a day or two. I stopped here because I thought it was at the end of the train line, but it apparently continues to near the French border. Regardless, it was a perfect point into the Pyrenees.
I needed trekking poles since TSA considers them to be more dangerous than a sharpened pencil. But it just so happened to be a Saturday when most stores are closed. An owner of another store just so happened to somewhere a walk away, near the park. And on my way back I just happened to walk through the park to find bars and happened to hear a mandolin warming up. And it just so happened to be an groups first performance in 3 years. And it just so happened to be free so I watched it. [youtube= ]
On Saturday night the streets in Huesca and probably every other Spanish town are filled with tables. I still had to walk around for 15 minutes to find an empty one. Children played in the open spaces while their parents drank wine with friends. Teenagers walked around freely, hanging
out at ice cream shops and revisiting their parents every so often. Thinking of how polar opposite this is to American culture, this scene made me unspeakably sad.
Then I asked for the check and got nervous. Id asked what kinds of wines the restaurant had, didnt recognize any, so I just asked for the best. The check came and it was $3.
