The Joys Of Spain (With Kids)
Child magazine, June/July 2005

ONLY A FEW MINUTES after we arrived in Spain for vacation, we were staring up at a 15th century castle in an unassuming little village named Fuensaldaña. “Isn't it amazing?” said my brother-in law Andrew, who has lived in Spain off and on for 10 years.

But Andrew didn't allow us any time to dawdle. After all, my husband, David, our two daughters, and I were going to be spending five days exploring the region, Castilla y León, which has the greatest concentration of Spain's 2,000 surviving castles ( Castillo means “castle” in Spanish.) Then we would spend three full days in Madrid, home of the vast and opulent Palacio Real, where today's Spanish royalty entertain heads of state. “You'll see, Spain is better than Disney World!” Andrew told my skeptical daughters, Annie, 3, and Emily, 8.

Spain-- because of its Mediterranean beaches, many historical and cultural attractions, and seriously great food—draws more foreign tourists than any other country except France, according to the World Tourism Organization. And while Americans traditionally have favored the United Kingdom and France for European vacations, recently they've begun discovering Spain too. Indeed, The New York Times recently declared Spain the “New France” because of its soaring reputation among epicureans.

Castilla y León is still off the beaten path for most American tourists, but it is gaining popularity, thanks to its rich, red wine. Ribera del Duero (named for the river that runs through the region), as well as its unspoiled countryside, medieval villages, and landmarks. (Spain has nearly 40 entries on the United Nation's list of the world's most important cultural and natural sites-- and many of them are in Castilla y León.)

David and I had visited Andrew, David's brother, in Spain before and had a wonderful vacation—but that was years ago, pre-children. We were nervous about how our children would fare on scenic car rides and three-hour gastronomic adventures that didn't include chicken fingers or mac and cheese. Not to mention the world-class museums in Madrid we were determined to visit. “Well, this may cure Andrew from ever wanting kids,” David had joked.

To preserve everyone's sanity, we decided our base in Castilla y León would be Valladolid (a major city where Andrew lives with his fiancée, Encarna), and we would visit only towns that were only an hour or so drive away. Then we'd take the 21/2-hour hour train to Madrid, where we'd explore the city Spaniards consider so enchanting that its unofficial slogan is “De Madrid Al Cielo” (“From Madrid to Heaven”). The meaning: The only place more heavenly than Madrid is heaven.

FIRST STOP: SEGOVIA

Entering Segovia, it was easy to see why the city is on the UN's list. Perched high up on a narrow wedge of land between two green river valleys, the city has breathtaking views. Once used by the Romans as a military base, it has a perfectly preserved aqueduct, built at the end of the first century A.D. by the Romans, and the Alcázar, a medieval fortress and palace.

It was almost 1 p.m. when we arrived, and the kids were famished. But in Spain, restaurants don't start serving lunch—the main meal of the day-- until 2. We were determined to get our kids on the Spanish schedule since most businesses shut down from 2 to 5 pm for lunch and siesta. We also knew we would skip dinner—not served until 10 pm or later in Spain—and would have only a snack of tapas in the evening.

So we staved off the kids' hunger by dollng out healthy snacks and tried to keep them busy. That turned out to be easy. Emily became fascinated with the aqueduct after she and I climbed all 116 steps (according to her count) to the top to get a view of the city. It truly is a miracle of engineering: With 88 arches, it stretches a distance of some 900 yards. The Romans built it, without benefit of mortar or concrete, by stacking 20,000 stone blocks on top of each other.

When we made our way to a restaurant, I began to fret about what Emily, our finicky eater, who survives on pasta and steamed broccoli, would eat. While Spain is a family-centered culture—it's common for generations to live together or near each other—it isn't child-centered. There are no such things as children's menus. “Kids menus! You Americans are crazy!” Virginia Irurita, owner of Made for Spain, a Madrid-based luxury tour operator, had said, laughing, when I asked her about it. “Children eat what we eat, of course!”

After Andrew ordered some regional specialties-- cochiillo asado (roast suckling pig), sopa de ajo (garlic soup thickened with bread), and fried chopitos (baby squid, often served with a fried egg), and I asked him to order an omelet and side order of grilled vegetables for the kids. But we needn't have bothered. Annie enjoyed eating a little of most everything we did, while Emily refused to touch anything but the bread. Would this be all she would eat the entire trip?, I wondered.

After lunch, our first stop was the Alcázar, where Isabel was proclaimed Queen of Castile in 1474. Originally built in pieces from the 12 th through 15 th centuries, it was largely reconstructed after a fire in 1862, but with its narrow towers, wild-looking turrets, and hovering ravens, it looked like a Disney version of a castle.

By 7 pm, the narrow, cobble stone streets were filled with Spaniards of all ages, running errands or just strolling. While Andrew, Encarna, David and Annie were window shopping and admiring the great vistas, Emily and I stopped in a quirky museum called the Old Museum of Witchcraft. Filled with creepy artifacts—including supposed mummies, stuffed gnomes, and poisons—Emily got spooked. “I don't believe in this stuff and I don't want to believe in it,” Emily told me, “but seeing this is making me believe in it!” Time to go!

ON TO PEÑAFIEL

The next morning, we told the girls we were going to visit the village of Peñafiel, which had--guess what--a castle. They groaned. “Another one?” But nobody was disappointed. Peñafiel means literally “loyal rock;” set on a cliff high above the city and the Duero river, the 15 th -century castle had served as a fortress against the advancing Moors. Roughly 700 feet long and only 79 feet wide, it is often described as looking like a long, battle ship.

To visit the castle, visitors are required to take a tour. None were available in English when we visited, although Peñafiel's castle—which has a highly regarded wine museum that offers tastings—draws growing numbers of wine aficionados from England and the U.S.. I learned that unlike the rest of western Europe, where English is virtually a second language, many Spaniards still speak little English, even though they study the language in school. My brother-in-law Andrew, an ex-English language tutor, theorized it was because Spanish TV dubs American programs (versus using subtitles, as other countries do). “Spaniards just aren't exposed to the language as much,” he says.

Whatever the reason, it is another factor that makes family travel more challenging in Spain, but it also adds to its exotic charm. Call me a curmudgeon, but I don't want foreign countries to be morphed into America Lite. When my husband and I visited Tuscany a few years earlier, it was disconcerting to hear shop owners in faraway villages speak flawless English and waiters automatically offer us their “English menus.”

Andrew translated the castle tour for us, but the kids didn't pay much attention. They were too fascinated by the secret passageways and dungeons. After being told repeatedly that yes, this was “all real,” that in fact, prisoners were tossed into dungeons once upon a time, and sometimes they may even have been royalty, I think Emily was finally cured of her princess fixation.

The highlight, though, was lunch at El Corralillo, a restaurant located in a bodega, an underground cave where wine barrels are stored. Many Spaniards in this region also have their own private bodegas, outfitted with open, wood-burning hearths, where they cook elaborate feasts for friends and family. You can spot them in towns by seeing the stone brick chimneys jutting a few feet out of the ground.

This restaurant had the classic Spanish décor: dark wooden tables and chairs, with various shields, helmets and other medieval-looking artifacts hanging on the walls. No menu was offered; the waiter simply brought us the “meal of the day,” which included sheeps-milk cheese, cured ham (jamón serrano), and the local specialty—lechazo, or roast suckling lamb, roasted slowly for hours in an earthenware dish with a little water. The result is a tender, sumptious meat that can be cut with a fork.

When the food arrived, we all dug in— remarkably, even Emily. She ate one, two, three pieces of the lamb. Then the cheese, which she liked so much that we asked for a second order. Was it raw hunger, or could it be that all that pandering to her with “kids' meals” (including, I'm embarrassed to admit, in our own home) was the problem?

After lunch, we took a walk to the village's main square, Plaza del Coso. Once a year, it becomes a bullring; families clear out of the first floor of their houses and sit on their balconies. Andrew pointed out that the doorways had been narrowed so that the bulls couldn't barge their way into homes. My daughters found this hilarious and spent several minutes seeing if the two of them could fit into doorways. Instantly, we all agreed that we would arrange to take a bull ranch tour. While a bullfight would be too gory, visiting where the animals are bred would be a perfect way to learn about one of Spain's favorite pastimes.

CHARMING TARDOBISPO

Early the next morning, we set off for Tardobispo, a bucolic village of only about 100 residents, where Encarna's parents have a 150-year-old country house. Many Spaniards own what are called “casas rurales” –rustic, second homes. They have become increasingly popular with tourists, as Spaniards are converting them to bed-and-breakfasts or low-cost vacation rentals. Also popular for vacationing families are the paradors, a chain of luxury hotels created by the Spanish government ; many are restored old palaces, castles, and monasteries .[See the box, “Planning Your Trip,” for more information about accommodations.[

Because our kids love animals, we thought it would be a great treat to visit Encarna's parents' home, where they have chickens and a litter of kittens. In fact, Emily was so enthralled that upon arriving and seeing the chicken coop, she announced that she wanted to stay behind while David, Andrew, Annie, and I took the 10- minute drive to Zamora, a picture-perfect Romanesque city, filled with 12 th century churches and houses, narrow, winding streets and charming shops. You can still see parts of the wall that surrounded the city.

We were fortunate to be visiting during Semana Santa (Holy Week), when the town was hosting an elaborate Easter procession, with all kinds of religious floats, music, and statues held by followers in eerie purple pointed hoods and capes. The streets and balconies were jammed with spectators. Even Annie, who normally hates to be confined to her stroller, was content to sit and watch. I later learned that virtually every town in Spain holds a colorful fiesta, usually to honor a national or regional holiday that has a religious connection, but in some cities, the end of the grape harvest is reason enough for a big celebration.

Back in Tardobispo, we walked a few doors down to Encarna's aunt's house for an “early dinner” at her private bodega. At 10 p.m., we were just sitting down to eat. But I didn't have to worry about my kids, normally in bed by 8:30 pm. Although the guests included Encarna's parents, aunt and uncle, her brother and sister-in-law, and her many grown cousins, no one else had kids. Spain's birth rate is just 1.07%, among the lowest in the world, and children are rare treats here. So, despite not understanding a word of Spanish, Annie was jumping from lap to lap, chattering away, while Emily was trying her Spanish out on these very tolerant adults. Finally, at midnight, as we were eating dessert, I noticed Annie--the child who never likes to go to bed—had climbed into her stroller, pulled the top down, and fell fast asleep.

Now, I'd truly seen everything.

TO THE BULL RANCH

The next morning, the girls begged us to stay longer, but we had an appointment at the Cabeza de Diego Gómez. A bull ranch in Sando, just outside of Salamanca, it has been breeding ferocious bulls—toros bravos—for more than 60 years. Ana Hernandez, the ranch owner's daughter, offers tours, taking families out in jeeps to see where the bulls live.

Although some Spaniards see bullfighting as cruel, it remains as popular a tradition as baseball is in America. “It's an art, a combination of force and beauty,” Ana's finance, Diego Cáneba Clavero, who breeds the bulls, told us, as he drove our jeep just a foot or two away from these intimidating-looking creatures. When my husband stuck his head out the window to take pictures of a bull that had been such a tenacious fighter, it had the rare distinction of having been “pardoned” from a fight , I became nervous.

Have any, uh, accidents ever happened on these tours? I wanted to know, as my daughters started to chant, “Scaredy cat!” Ana responded by telling a very long story in Spanish. which Andrew translated into four words, “I'll tell you later.”

When the two hour tour was over, I learned that Diego had once given a tranquilizer shot to a bull, believed to be sick, so it could be examined. Before the tranquilizer took effect, though, the bull charged the jeep, ripping off the door with one horn.

That's why there was a dent on my door.

Later that day, we arrived in Salamanca to find a crowd at the elaborately sculpted façade of the University of Salamanca, founded in 1218. Legend has it that if you can find the frog sculpted on the façade, you'll have good luck and will return to Salamanca one day (which is why nearly every shop in the city is filled with frog souvenirs). We all looked for the frog, but only David found it.

Salamanca is filled with architectural wonders, including Gothic churches, Renaissance palaces, and the 15 th century Casa las Conchas (a 15 th -century building covered with shells), but we spent most of our time at the Plaza Mayor. Every Spanish city has one, but Salamanca's was particularly lively, filled with singers and comics and packed cafes. We bought some souvenir fans, which Encarna taught the kids to open and close like a true Spaniard. They were captivated.

THE HEAVENLY CITY

Madrid has three of the best museums in the world within a half mile radius, but with our kids in tow, I felt it was unrealistic—and possibly masochistic—to try to see more than one in a day. Reluctantly, David agreed. So after a traditional paella lunch, we went to the Prado museum, where we bought a good guide book and concentrated on seeing the museum's great collection of Goya and Velázquez paintings. Then we took a leisurely walk to Santa Ana square, where we let the girls blow off steam at the playground,.

From 8 p.m. on, the streets are filled with Madrileños, who hop from tapas bar to tapas bar, eating small portions of everything from olives and fried almonds to mussels and fried calamari. That night, we settled in at one bar, as we all loved sampling the dishes, including fried anchovies. I was tempted to take a photo of Emily eating them, but I didn't want to spoil the moment.

The following morning, we enjoyed ourselves at El Rastro, Spain's oldest and best known flea market, which sells literally everything from T-shirts and books to antique furniture. Then after having lunch, we said a long goodbye to Andrew and Encarna. Following their suggestion, we took a walk through the city to have dessert at Valor, one of the city's chocolaterías. For the kids, it was undoubtedly a highlight: Virtually everything on the menu came with chocolate. We chose the popular, and yummy, treat of churros and chocolate—which is a sort of a donut, with a big cup of thick, warm chocolate for dipping.

To walk off dessert, we decided to stroll through Parque del Buen Retiro. Like New York's Central Park, it is sprawling and endless interesting, with some 350-odd acres of fountains, gardens, playgrounds, trails, and a large pond, where you can rent canoes or paddle boats. Our kids enjoyed the variety of street performers—magicians, musicians, puppeteers, and balloon masters—as well as the walking Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse, who posed for pictures (for a tip, of course).

On our last morning in Spain, we got up early for a visit to the Palacio de Real. Reputed to be twice the size of Buckingham Palace, the palace offers one hour tours (in English) of about two dozen rooms, each more ornate than the next. Emily took to counting the gold gilded mirrors but lost count after 30 in the first five rooms. Both Annie and Emily were most impressed with the palace's Armory Museum, especially the collection of children's armory.

After much agonizing, we decided to skip the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum, renowned for its collection of paintings by Rubens, Van Gogh, and Picasso. Instead we visited Reina Sofía, which houses Picasso's famous anti-war painting, Guernica , and other modern art. It turned out to be a great choice: Annie loved the child-like Miró paintings, and the outdoor sculpture garden was a big hit with both girls. While Annie ran circles around the sculptures, and Emily sketched in her notebook, David and I fantasized about our next trip to Spain.

June/July 2005, Child magazine