Europe in the Off Season

I recently returned from a journey arching along the northern edge of the Mediterranean. When I left, I knew the amount of time I could be gone (21 days) but no destinations besides my starting point in Zagreb and my departure from Madrid. There is something freeing about allowing your plans to unfold as things progress, your break time occupied with planning and plotting, interacting with people to learn their experiences. From start to finish I only spent time on the ground, avoiding air travel and preferring trains. Zagreb was a frozen wonderland of crisp morning markets and smoky cafes. I was the only person in the hostel and enjoyed solitude in my wanderings over cobblestones and hard packed ice. The city was low key and preferred practicality to gentrification. Winding through the jutting mountains only an hour to the west, Ljubljana sat in a valley straddling a river. The city is small, but feels like a concisely compacted Vienna or Prague, with cute walking thoroughfares and a majestic castle perched overhead. From there I headed to Trieste for an insanely windy evening, eating Austro-Hungarian style pork sandwiches in the furthest east portion of Italy. The next morning I took a long train ride to Genoa, on the opposite side of the country. I am constantly falling in love with Italy, every city seems unique and culturally vibrant. The capital of pesto felt real and welcomed wanderers to lose themselves in the old city’s winding alleyways. 

I took an overnight ferry to Barcelona, landing on a stormy morning that chased me into bars for wine and hot tapas. I then proceeded to San Sebastian near the French border. Here my off the cuff planning paid off, allowing me to stay for a week in Basque country rather than two nights. The city reminded me of my time living in Sinop, Turkey. Both sit beneath mountains on peninsulas, featuring compact old town centers and an emphasis on the fruits of the sea. I spent cloudy mornings traveling to nearby villages, searching for cider taverns and cod delicacies, waiting for the sun to peek through the clouds in the afternoon. I have scarcely eaten so well anywhere else. The tail end of my trip pointed me south towards Salamanca and then on to Madrid. Salamanca’s ancient university reminded me of a golden Oxford, while Madrid hearkened back to the beginning of my trip; a city where reality overrides the casual desires of tourists. From there it was back to the States and home.