Moments in Madrid: Travels in Chinchón and La Mancha

Rajesh and I took a day trip to La Mancha last month and I wanted to share some pictures and experiences. We first stopped at a small village called “Chinchón.” This village is famous for some of the best garlic in Spain and also for small pastries. We toured a beautiful catholic church and walked around the gardened, outer edges. The weather was a perfect 64 Fahrenheit and the sky was a deep blue. Standing at the highest point of Chinchón, I felt a deep connection with the people that made Chinchón their home. The town (or Pueblo) is exposed and not very guarded, but the landscape around it is breathtaking. When I first arrived, I wondered why anyone would want to live there (It is very flat). But then I saw the view from the church… and I knew. They stay because it is tranquil and peaceful. The city is back in time. All is “still” throughout. We walked to a small, street café for coffee and tender, chicken pieces rolled in breadcrumbs. Our tour guide, Camila, bought a long braid of garlic and said the people of Chinchón had never had to deal with vampires. J I laughed along with Camila because I didn’t know if she was being honest or joking. When one is learning a foreign language, it is best to laugh when they laugh, cry when they cry, and ask questions later. It is easy to offend with a simple facial expression.

We arrived at a tavern outside La Mancha and enjoyed a tasty lunch. A custom that Rajesh and I are still not adjusted to in Spain, is the waiting period at restaurants. By the time our vision is beginning to blur from hunger, a camarero (waiter) arrives with two water glasses and a basket of freshly, sliced bread. (I am quite sure I look completely American because I eat two large pieces.) Then when we cannot eat anymore bread, the camarero arrives with a plate of what I hope is cheese and pisto manchengo (bowl of tomatoes and peppers). We partake feeling somewhat queasy. Maybe we ate too much bread we wonder. Then the cheese and vegetables have been taken away and we sit at the table wondering if it is the end of the food or if there is more to come. We wait. And wait. And wait some more. We begin to gather our things because it has been at least ten minutes and were not hungry anymore. As we stand to leave, in comes a camarero with a huge tray of papas fritas (French fries) and a leg of meat so huge, it looks like it belonged to a horse. Yes my dear friends. We sit back down and eat with all the will power we have. I have always done my best to fit in with the customs of whatever country I am in, and usually manage pretty well. My only hope is that the waiters did not see the look on my face when they entered with all those trays of food. This is exactly what happened at the tavern outside La Mancha.

When we reached the famous windmills (from the book of Don Quixote), I was surprised by the size of them. They looked so strange lined up on a mountain top with nothing but desert all around them. We took lots of pictures and got to tour the inside of one of the molinos de vientos (windmills) and the nearby Castillo de La Mancha (castle in La Mancha).