It never ceases to amaze me how something you can be so sure about one minute can prove to be the exact opposite upon further examination. For me, my visit to Huelva was just that.
Entering this port city in southwestern Spain at the mouth of the Odiel and Tinto rivers, it had a sterile industrial feel. All the eye could see were endless rows of colorless, nondescript apartment complexes and industrial buildings, their facades lacking any of the charm and old world feel of the other metropolitan cities I had recently explored. With a population of almost 150,000 people and claiming Christopher Columbus as it’s city’s son, Huelva had been occupied by the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, the city suffering substantial damage in the 1755 Lisbon earthquake where much of the old storied structures were leveled. I proceeded down a long tree lined Avenida Andalucía, passing by fountains and through rotaries with statues chronicling the city’s many historical happenings, navigating my way to the old town and my airbnb lodgings for the next two nights.
Pulling up to my host’s apartment, Javier came out to greet me and helped negotiate the slim pickings for street parking. He then escorted me up to his flat, a modestly furnished two bedroom dwelling owned by his parents who had moved several years earlier to a larger home just outside the city limits. This was now his to manage as a rental 
unit. Javier was in his mid forties, sported a salt and pepper beard and wore a smile that was there upon occasion but hesitant to come out to visit too often it seemed. He was between jobs and we discussed the horrendous unemployment rate in Spain, some regions over the last couple years reporting their annual rates as high as 30%. I too was without work and we discussed how the rat race in the industrialized countries was set-up to keep you grinding away endlessly at a job that most are unhappy with and pay wages that just get one by. Newly unemployed and responsible for my own healthcare coverage for the first time in over two decades , I discussed my latest revelation – how in America employers leverage that much needed coverage as the carrot that keeps so many from ever considering leaving a full-time position. I know when I was younger and responsible for my entire family’s health and dental benefits, leaving my “safe” corporate gig and coverage plans for the all the unknowns which come with self-employment was never a realistic option. For any downsides one may argue about socialized medicine in countries like Spain, the peace of mind knowing if anything ever was to happen you’ll be taken care of is priceless.
Drumming in a local band was his passion, and noticing the kit in Javier’s bedroom and the Bob Marley picture on his wall I knew immediately that we’d get along famously. I just wasn’t aware at that particular moment that it would take a bit of time to get there. A kind and very welcoming soul, we chatted it up as I settled in to my new digs. But he was definitely shy, and in his company that shyness could easily be misinterpreted as him being distant and even cold, a-typical of the traditional all welcoming warm-hearted Spaniards. I invited Javier to join me as my guest for dinner with the hope of melting that cold venere a bit and that he’d be my tour guide, showing me around his city home. But unfortunately, he declined, informing me he had prior arrangements and was not able to take me up on my kind offer.
Although some people love to research and plan, that’s never been the way I approach life or my travel adventures. Heading out the door I had no idea where I was going nor what I was hoping to find, other than the the center of the city and a good place to address of the rumblings in my stomach. Navigating the nondescript city streets north of the center of town I came across the whitewashed Santuario de Nuestra Señora de la Cinta chapel, dating from the 15th century it is the chapel where Columbus is said to have prayed before setting sail. I saw the Merced Cathedral and its impressive baroque facade and then the statue of Columbus overlooking the palm-flanked square of Plaza de las Monjas. which was at the very heart of the city center. But the noteworthy and impressionable architectural structures of any kind were noticeably absent. So far, Huelva was anything but growing on me.
Locating the restaurant Javier had recommended to me earlier, I found a table in the middle of the main square 
where I sat down to enjoy a main course of traditional Spanish tapas with a side of fabulous people watching. I also was thrilled to have finally located one of my very favorite culinary delights from my previous travels through Spain, Pastilla. It’s a Moroccan dish, a mincemeat chicken pie of sorts which has a flaky pastry filo crust and a filling made of onions, parsley, ginger, turmeric, saffron, salt and pepper, and then topped off with cinnamon. It has a flavor like no other and one of those unique eating experiences which makes global travel so special for me.
Five miles south of where I sat is the 15th-century Franciscan Monasterio de Santa María de la Rábida where Columbus stayed between 1491-92 waiting for financial backing from the Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, for his voyage to the New World. And slightly north of there is Palos de la Frontera, the small sleepy village on the River Tinto where in 1492 he set sail westwards and “discovered” America. Upon returning from his explorations, the Huelvans were the first to see Columbus’s riches and oddities from the other side of the world. Throngs of onlookers lined the very square where I was sitting admiring and in awe of the endless parade of never before seen animals and indigenous people and trove of riches his explorations had acquired, before starting the 55 mile journey to Sevilla where he was greeted by the royals. Because it was his “landing place”, Huelva is now home to one of the most significant museums dedicated to Columbus to include all kinds of artifacts as well as replicas of his three ships on his maiden voyage,the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. So I left the city center and headed towards the museum and the water’s edge with hopes there would be lots of commerce and excitement to cash in on the tourists and local’s entertainment 
dollars. But to my surprise, all I came across were two very dark and ominous looking parks and a few sparsely populated restaurants accompanied by a sprawling sea of tables with next to no one sitting at them.
It was also November 1st, El Dia de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead – the day following Halloween). This was an annual tradition started in Mexico prior to Spanish colonization in the 16th century to honor the memory of those who had come before us and transitioned on to the afterlife. And although our candy centric holiday had never really taken hold in their culture, dressing up in Halloween costumes to celebrate their holiday had. 
One could see the joy in the children’s faces parading around in their spooky costumes: vampires and witches and skeletons clearly won the day. And here I was, trekking around Europe, working on figuring out what to do with the next 50 years of my life (God willing), and also processing the passing of my mother while reflecting on my own mortality. How apropos. My thoughts drifted back to my mother and my father, mi Tios José, Tias Anna y Maite y Pilar, mis Primos Jaime and José, and all of my beloved family members who had passed and had called Spain their home. Descansa en paz.
When I think about the major holidays we celebrate in America, the one theme which resonates through them all is commerce. But here was a holiday where everyone stopped to take time to remember and reflect about those who have died, honoring their memories and celebrating their lives as opposed to the North American approach to death – grieving deeply and wallowing in the sadness of our loved one’s loss.
As the evening turned to night, the darkness added the appropriate eerie feel both Halloween 
and The Day of the Dead deserve. And although I was completely underwhelmed by what I had discovered in Huelva so far in terms of buildings and architectural magnificence, something wonderfully delicious began to take hold of my imagination – the street art and murals. Although I had seen a few interesting murals scattered around the other cities my travel had brought me to, this was the first city I saw that incorporated them in to the overall tapestry of the community. Apparently they had commissioned several very famous Spanish artists such as MAN-O-MATIC to apply their craft to the blighted areas and large white washed walls all across the city limits. What I had discovered was in the absence of grand architectural masterpieces one is forced to look deeper to find the real beauty and soul of a city.
Returning to my airbnb, I ended up spending several hours talking to my new roommate before finally turning in for the night. After our introductory conversations that afternoon and closing out the evening with further musings about life, it was clear that the initial hardened facade Javier wore upon my arrival had finally begun to slowly crumble. His emotionless expressions replaced by distinct smiles, the frequent silent interludes filled with non-stop banter. When I woke-up in the morning and was preparing to head out on my own to explore the city some more, it was Javier who approached me about joining my adventures.
“Absolutamente. Vamanos.”, I said.
Leaving the apartment, we went in a completely different direction than my trajectory the evening prior. The parts of the city I was discovering were completely different than the ones I visited a few hours earlier. There were cool antiquities and architectural touches, colors and wonderful smells and a vibrant feel. We stopped for a quick breakfast of fresh toasted bread with serrano ham and manchego cheese, and I was reminded how incredibly delicious the fresh squeezed orange juice is in this part of the country. We chatted it up with some locals and then headed to the port.
And there I was shown the Rio Tinto Pier or what is affectionately called, “The Horizontal Eiffel Tower”. It is actually a bridge to nowhere, designed following the premises of Gustave Eiffel’s school. Looking at the pier as it sits today and the way the
beams are designed and put together, it’s easy to see the Eiffel stamp on this mile long structure. The bridge was originally built to directly connect the rail lines coming from the Rio Tinto mines to the ships that were docked in the Huelva harbor, designed with two platforms: the upper deck where the trains loaded with the minerals ran, and the lower one used for the freight trains. This workhorse for commerce now converted in to a pedestrian bridge providing tourists and locals alike a relaxing stroll out in to the middle of the Odiel river. Although a less well-known structure than the Eiffel tower in Paris, it’s absolutely a work of art in its own right.
We walked along the water’s edge on a wide marbled pedestrian walkway which continued on as far as the eye could see. To our left was the Nuevo Colombino stadium, home to Recreativo de Huelva, the oldest football club in Spain. There were electric scooters and row boats for rent, the warm sunny weather had the locals out in droves enjoying the perfect 75 degree fall day.
In the course of our meanderings through the city streets, we ended up 
back at Plaza de las Monjas for lunch. Javier and I toasted cañas, enjoyed some tapas and manzanillas (a delicious olive the likes I which I have never tasted outside of the boarders of Spain). It was at that moment that I was truly overwhelmed with appreciation for my wonderful host, someone who I now considered mi gran amigo. It was wonderful watching our connection deepen over the course of two short days, transitioning from complete strangers to close friends. Two single divorced male fathers, music lovers seeking a peaceful existence, doing our respective bests to make this planet a better place for us being here. My initial impression of Javier completely flipped on its head once I got to know him, just like his beautiful hometown city, Huelva. Both a city and a new friend which I look forward to returning to and visiting again someday soon.