Torla- part II

The ground began to rumble as Huw sat up in the cold wet tent. He looked at me, but I was sound asleep. I felt a sudden pain in my side. As I began to wake up the tent was shaking. Huw looked at me and said,
-“Holy hell, it sounds like the mountains are going to fall down!”
-“Hue, I’m from Oklahoma, we have storms like this all the time. It will pass” I said calmly “just go back to sleep.”
About three hours later I woke up, the clouds still smothering the sunlight. As I poked my head out of the tent, I could not help but wonder how long the rain would continue. But, I had no room to complain, I did not look at the weather beforehand, planning not being a particular strength of mine. This of course often to source of many problems and adventures, because, what’s fun is it if everything is set in stone?
The ground was wet, as were our close, packs, and tent. So, we spent the next few hours in a near by bathroom trying to dry our stuff out under a hand driers. It should be noted, that this method is rather tedious, but it worked. Huw came down with a fever and the weather forecast was rain for the next 24-48hrs. We decided to walk back to the little town just west of where we camped in hopes of finding a warm dry place to sleep for the night.
As expected, the sky began to growl like a man’s stomach who had not eaten in a week. So we followed suit and began to cover our bags and put on our rain coats. As Huw struggled to get his coat he commented,
-“this coat is pure rubbish! Gortex my ass!” he said emphatically, as he held the coat in front of him noting the areas that were completely absorbed with water.
-“I feel horrible” he said
-“ok, lets get out of here before the volume two of ‘The Perfect Storm’ commences.”
We started down the road and we only need to cover a few kilometers to reach Biescas.
As we entered the town, we could tell that is was not a normal stop for tourists. It was a nice town, but a bit eerie. As we walked through the streets, the people looked at us as if we did not belong there. We asked a man where the cheapest place to find a room was and he told us, it was on the other side of town. Fortunately for us Biescas is a small town. We walked through the door to find an empty reception desk, we rang the bell and nothing happened. We decided to try a little later so we went across the street to find something warm to drink.
The cafeteria was a small and crowded full of men watching T.V. Huw and I entered with our packs on and as soon as we broke the plain of plastic beads that acted as a door the men stopped what they were doing and just looked at us for a while, one of the guys got up from his table providing us a place to sit. We placed our bags against the wall next to what looked to be a slot machine. At this point we did not really care if we were welcomed or not, we had committed and decided to ride it out. After a café and a few tapas (tapas are similar to appetizers in the U.S., but not as fancy), we decided to try the hotel once more.
Huw was looking pretty bad, any color he had in his face was gone and he was doing his best to stay focused until he could get in bed. The lady showed us to a room, it had two beds that occupied the majority of the space, but we were content. Huw dropped his bag and crawled into bed. I took a shower and put on some clean, but damp clothes and went for a walk around the city.
The sun was trying to come out almost all afternoon, but… it was not raining. The day was still young and I wanted to see some more of this town. I found a nice walking trail next to the river and enjoyed that for a while. On my way back I ran into an older gentleman by the name of Don Antonio, he was staying in what looked to be a retirement home. He spoke very quickly, but had a beautiful smile and wore a classic driving hat.
One of the many things I hope to learn about while in Spain centers around the Spanish Civil War. Much like in the U.S, many veterans are getting older and their stories will simply be another event in History. But, I had the opportunity to hear a first had accounts and that is something you can’t get in the classroom. So, I asked Don Antonio about his life.
He was born and raised on a small farm in Biescas. Pointing over my shoulder he showed me where the school house used to be, he smiled as he reminisced of the past. As I looked into his eyes, I could see him as a young boy running around the school yard chasing the girls. His body reflected a number of hard years on earth, but his spirit was still very much alive. We laughed together a bit and then I asked him about the war. He told me that the people of Biescas fought for Franco, he did not say it with shame or regret, but simply as it was. He told me about a battle the occurred between Biescas and Gavin, which was close to were we had camped that night.
-“los de Gavín eran Republicanos, y nosotros somos de Franco” he said.
He gave me a brief account of what happened. He used his walking stick, he pointed out houses used for defense and the rout the enemy used to attack. The more he spoke the heavier his spirit grew. It was not long before he simply stopped talking. He looked at the ground, then back up at me,
-“muchos personas murieron aquí” (many people died here).
He gave me a few other details about the battle, but for him it was not a story, it was life. He lost friends and family; he fought against his neighbors and now, he walks the streets of a city that yields memories around every corner. We spoke a while longer before we said goodbye, but as we shuck hands he looked into my eyes and said with a calm sincere voice, “You are young, and have lot yet to experience in life.” As I walked away from him my heart grew heavy, I looked back as he was slowly making his way inside.
As I walked around the streets, you could see the decay brought about by the passing of time. I had a lot to think about, so I made my way into a nice warm bar, to think and enjoy a cup of café con leche.