Where the color of love is blue

Albarracín is a terrible town! We set out for our first exploration tour late this morning, but we didn't get far. At every corner lurked a photo opportunity that was hard to pass by. What a wonderful place! First, Icke took a few photos while I held the dogs, then we switched roles and I took pictures from a different perspective ... Accordingly, I found it very difficult to choose the ten images today.

I started our outing feeling a bit guilty because I didn't have a clear plan on how we would get to the town center. I was somewhat surprised when Icke marched off with a loud “Follow me!” in lively strides. And indeed, after a few streets and stairs, we found ourselves at the Plaza Mayor, in the town center, right in front of the only tavern in Albarracín. It was quite lively here. We found a free table and a chair, but all the other chairs were occupied. I took the occupied one while Icke went to the bar to order. When she came back out, we switched places, and I looked around with my trained sympathetic gaze – and succeeded! An older gentleman – older than me, yes, such men exist – stood up and offered me his chair. I hadn’t even settled down properly when Icke had finished her drink. “You’re not mad at me if I go shopping for a bit, are you?” In Bavaria, they call it “standeln,” which actually means to stroll, and I didn’t mind at all.

While I sat there alone in front of my beer and my cortado, pondering the memorable start of this day, it became clear to me: My sweetheart had planned this! Yes, she had picked her shops on Google Maps and selected a bar where she could drop me off with Pipo and Emmi, to then go on a shopping spree, fresh, cheerful, and free. Icke hardly buys anything for us. It’s usually souvenirs for grandma, grandpa, daughter, son, other relatives, friends, and acquaintances – near and far. She just has a big heart – and that’s one more reason why I love her.

Speaking of big hearts: There’s a legend in Albarracín about a blue house. You should know that all houses here are actually red, which is why the place is nicknamed “The Red City.” The owner of the house fell in love with a girl from Andalusia, who was very plagued by homesickness. This broke her husband’s heart, so he painted his house in the color of Andalusia, blue. His wife was delighted – his neighbors, however, were not so pleased.

When I told Icke this story, she was thrilled and said: “Oh, how happy I would be if someone would paint our house blue.” I have a bad feeling about this…