Spain's Hidden Gem: Zaragoza
On a sunny Sunday afternoon, my friend George and I took a walk through sleepy La Magdalena, a neighbourhood located in my city of study, Zaragoza. In the almost six months I have spent here, La Magdalena has become my favourite spot. Partly due to its abundance of coffee shops and second-hand stores, but mainly because its atmosphere is one of both warmth and tranquillity. As we wandered down honey-coloured streets, lined with walls occasionally interrupted by splashes of street art, it struck me how La Magdalena truly encompasses what I believe to be the very essence of Zaragoza. Unpretentious, yet undeniably charming.
While the bright lights of Barcelona and Madrid were of course appealing, living somewhere slightly off the tourist map has opened up a treasure trove of cultural experience I feel I would otherwise have missed out on. Whether it be the plethora of festivals that fill the city’s main square week by week, the local tapas bars on every street corner, or the satisfying lack of tourist traps in the city’s quaint old town, Zaragoza has provided me with a glimpse into daily Spanish life. I enjoy the fact that this is a place where people really live, work, and socialise.
From Thursday to Saturday every week, the city’s famous tapas district - El Tubo - comes to life, with people absolutely pouring out of its winding and narrow streets. As I threaded myself through crowds, I bored witness to the hubbub of animated conversation between friends, their cheeks kissed and their glasses filled with golden Ambar, Zaragoza’s favourite beer. In the evenings, I often find myself on El Puente de Piedra, a bridge that overlooks the city’s grand basilica, El Pilar. I have had the pleasure of catching sunsets here, where the sky becomes a canvas brushed with pale pinks, blues and gold, and the silhouette of Pilar looks almost two-dimensional against it. One of the beauties about living somewhere new is that there is poetry in everything you see.
Something I have realised during my time here is that I do not need a new museum to go to every week. There is enough joy in the mundane days where one is actually living. A smile from a shopkeeper, who looks vaguely impressed that you managed a conversation with them in Spanish; the sun on your face as you sit with a one-euro cup of coffee in the middle of February; the city walks where everything is bathed in beautiful winter light. Just being here is enough. This is a sentiment worth remembering when you embark upon your year abroad.
I love Zaragoza, not simply because of its understated beauty, or its inherent lack of English…anywhere. But also because it helped me to press pause on what felt like a very hectic time in my life. This is the joy of a year abroad; it gives us space to learn and to live and to do everything else in between. What lies ahead is exciting and transformative in so many ways, and I am only sad that I cannot relive it all over again.
