Segovia

In an era of excess digital documentation, it is difficult to discern the difference between memories and files. Mostly photographic, their electronic existences trick our minds into believing that we would have otherwise remembered the day, the moment, the details. Perhaps so. But it is already too late to know.

I may have visited Segovia 20 years ago and in the absence of digital documentation, I would have to further investigate if I really wanted to know. It would have been on a college trip through Spain- the same one from which I have almost no memory of Granada. When I (re?visited) two months ago, I asked a former classmate if she remembered if we had gone there during that time. While she did remember visiting (the expansive Roman aqueduct should be memorable), she didn’t know if it was during that trip or a separate one she took later in the semester.

Writing is a good way to preserve memories as the brain, like the computer, has only so much space available at any given time. I would have already forgotten many of the details of my most recent trip to Granada had I not just re-read my blog post from the time before a global pandemic and several extreme weather events swept away our senses of stability and control for the rest of our lives. For the rest of our lives. Humans have the uncanny ability to never learn from history so should our species survive for a while longer, I am confident that future generations will continue to make the same stupid mistakes we have.

Since two months have passed since my (most recent?) trip to Segovia, I just looked through photos taken from that time to refresh my “memory”, but it turns out that I remember more than I thought I did. Photographic documentation can also be used as a crutch.

We stayed at Hotel San Antonio El Real, a re-purposed monastery. While pleasing from an architectural and historical perspective, the small rooms and paper-thin walls reminded me of an uncomfortable past that extended until only about a Martha (100 years) ago. Upon dropping off our bags and having lunch at the restaurant in the cloister, we made our way along the old Roman aqueduct to the historical city center. The old Jewish quarter, which has essentially been devoid of Semites for the past five Marthas, was particularly quiet. Assimilate or disintegrate was the rule of the day. Somehow the Romans were a little more tolerant. Perhaps this tolerance was why their empire lasted so long and they had the mental space for great inventions, such as the aqueduct.

Continuing along until the Alcázar de Segovia, we looped back, stopping at a local bar for beers and their corresponding tapas before going for dinner at Restaurante Pasapán, a recommendation overheard from a group of locals’ conversations at the bar. While we weren’t exceptionally hungry given the tapas served with our beers, we nonetheless enjoyed a delicious meal of “new Spanish” cuisine thanks to our ability to eavesdrop on locals.

As we traced our way back to the hotel along the remarkably even stones of the aqueduct, we paused to appreciate the unevenness of the base of one arch, which reminded me of my bottom row of teeth. I probably would have forgotten this particular detail had it not been the last photo I took in Segovia.