Robriguero

When I first found out that Francisco's mom is from a town of 30 people, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when he told me how he loved it there. I thought, who the hell would want to live in a town where there are more cows and sheep than people?! But I was excited to see it anyway, mainly due to curiosity. I was so excited that I wouldn't stop talking about it.

The night before we went to Robriguero, we spent the night in Bilbao and hung out with Francisco's friends. I was telling his friend, Yuli, about our upcoming trip to this ridiculously small town. She started laughing and says, oh yeah I know that town pretty well. I responded, you do?! And she continued, yup that's where I'm from. Crap! Foot...in...mouth. And her boyfriend, Carlos, proceeded to say, I think my town is even smaller. Thankfully, both had good humor and didn't take my ignorance as offensive.

To get to Robriguero, you have to go through mountains and other small towns. And the road up to Robriguero is one of those where you make one little wrong move and you'll surely fall to a certain death. I was completely freaking out the first time we drove up.

Once we were there, it was nothing but beautiful. Yes, there's absolutely nothing to do but watch TV. Yes, there are no bars or shops. Yes, there is absolutely nothing but a number of houses, small barns and a church. But that is the beauty of Robriguero: its peacefulness.

It was so quiet and so incredibly beautiful, with nature enveloping you in its greatness. There were no honking noises, no sirens, no hustle and bustle, no traffic. I may not be able to live in Robriguero year round but I wouldn't mind visiting it once a year just to escape the city and regain my sanity.

Being there was also seeing Francisco's childhood. He spent pretty much all of his summers as a child in Robriguero. He showed me where he use to help his grandpa with the animals and the plants. He pointed out to me the rivers and various places where they use to swim and play. Despite my protests, he also took me to the chicken house to grab some fresh eggs to take home; thankfully, he couldn't get the key to open the door. We also went to see the little church and visited the cemetery behind it where his granparents are buried. It made me sad when I realized that his grandma died giving birth to his aunt. It made me think how great his grandpa must have been to raise two young girls on his own for over 50 years. No wonder everyone has such fond memories of him. On a much lighter/humourous note, I am also permanently haunted by the dead whose graves I stepped on...I had no idea they were there!

During our trip, I met many of Francisco's childhood buddies from Robriguero. Although they are all living in different cities, they still get together and visit each other when they can. They have such a special bond that it was very endearing to see them together again. I have to admit it made me a little envious. Obviously for such a tiny town, Robriguero is not that bad after all.