Gijon is a small city which finds its home in a cosy spot on the north coast of Spain, in the province of Asturias, the Iberian peninsula’s impressive answer to Norfolk.
Its modest in many ways, but for me, and perhaps only for me, it is perhaps my favourite of the few places that I have visited on God’s earth. My feelings are perhaps unreasonably resting on holiday experiences, rather than living there, but I never get a sense of well-being.
Partly it relates to the fact that I used to know a few people there. Partly it relates to the fact that a friend that I used to know there let me stay in her flat, and even let me stay in it by myself for a few weeks, whilst she went on holiday. All of this was by chance, and part of a one way ticket adventure I made to Spain, probably the most exciting and important summer trip I ever made. All of that, and yet even when I go back, years and years later, those same feelings flood back into me.