Day 7: Girona
Girona was a complete whim. Woke up on Day 7 without a plan, which after six days of structured movement felt both right and slightly disorienting. Looked up trains, saw that Girona was about an hour north of Barcelona and Barcelona was forty-five minutes from Sitges, did the math, and was on a train before nine. The AVE hit 300 km/h on the way up. I watched the speed display the whole time, same as I had on the way from Madrid — some people never stop being impressed by fast trains, and I am apparently one of them. Girona turned out to be the best surprise of the entire trip. Which, given what the trip had already included, is not a small thing to say.
You arrive and walk into the old city and the first thing you see is the river, and the colorful buildings stacked along it — ochre, terracotta, yellow — reflected in the water below. It looks like a painting of itself. Like someone composed it. Girona has been getting this reaction from visitors for centuries and clearly does not need to try.
The Cathedral
The Girona Cathedral hit me before I was ready for it, and I had read about it on the train so I should have been ready. You walk through narrow streets and stone archways, climb a wide set of steps that opens onto the cathedral plaza, go through the entrance, and then you are inside the widest Gothic nave in the world. Single unbroken span. No columns dividing the space, just this massive open vault of stone rising above you with stained glass at the far end and the full weight of the silence pressing down from above. I had read the statistic — widest Gothic nave in the world — and thought, sure, that is a good fact to have. Then I walked in and looked up and the statistic became an entirely different experience.
The engineers who designed this in the 15th century — when construction was already underway and a debate broke out about whether a single-nave design was structurally viable at this scale — actually commissioned expert opinions from architects across Catalonia before proceeding. They were told it could be done. They did it. It has been standing since the 1400s and shows no signs of stopping. Physics had no argument.
The cathedral museum holds the Creation Tapestry, an embroidered cloth from the 11th century depicting the creation of the world. Still intact. Still vivid. Someone stitched this by hand over a thousand years ago and it is still here, still telling the same story. I stood in front of it longer than I expected to, which is something that keeps happening to me in this country. There is a Romanesque church attached to the cathedral complex — older than the Gothic nave, simpler, with thick stone walls and small windows that let in just enough light to make the space feel ancient in a completely different register. Not soaring. Just old, and solid, and very quiet.
The Jewish Quarter and the Walls
After the cathedral complex, I found my way into El Call, the old Jewish Quarter. Girona was home to one of the most significant Jewish communities in medieval Catalonia — the neighborhood dates to the 9th century, and the Call Jueu was a dense, self-contained community with its own synagogue, schools, and market. The community was expelled in 1492, the same year Isabel la Católica's Alhambra Decree expelled the Jews from all of Spain. Walking these streets knowing that history layers everything differently. Stone archways framing narrow cobblestone paths. Courtyards that reveal themselves as you turn corners. The buildings press close overhead in a way that makes you feel the age of the place in your body, not just your head.
Found a stone fly sculpted into a wall at eye level. No explanation, no context, just there. These are the details you only find when you are paying attention and not looking at your phone, and they are always worth the attention.
The city walls — the Passeig de la Muralla — run along the old Roman perimeter, and walking them is one of those experiences that rewards you immediately and then keeps rewarding you every hundred meters. The whole city is below: terracotta rooftops, the cathedral spire, the river cutting through the middle with its colorful facades, green hills rising past the edge of the old city. Girona is not large, but from the walls it feels vast in the way that medieval cities do when you can see them whole. Took a panorama that does not come close to capturing it. Took it anyway.
Gelato and the Way Back
Found a gelateria after the walls and ordered a cone because I had climbed enough medieval steps to earn it. Gelato eaten while standing outside in the afternoon sun of a thousand-year-old city, watching people walk by. That is the whole thing. No further justification required.
Walked back through the streets one more time, slower, looking for things I had missed the first pass. There were things I had missed. There always are in a place like this. Girona packs history into a space you can walk in an afternoon, and every circuit through it reveals another layer. I was already thinking about coming back.
The train back went through Barcelona, and I had time to walk through the city before catching the regional south to Sitges. Passed Plaça d'Espanya at night — two Venetian towers lit up against the dark sky, the Palau Nacional glowing on the hill behind them. Spain keeps doing this. You are not looking for a moment. You are just walking somewhere, heading home, tired from a full day. And the city hands you something anyway. The two towers at night, the hill behind them, and nowhere I needed to be for another hour. Spain just keeps showing off.
On the train back to Sitges I sat with the day. The best parts of this trip have consistently been the unplanned ones — the whim, the last-minute train, the morning without a schedule. You can plan every hour of a trip and what stays with you is the thing you did because you woke up and felt like it. Tomorrow Bear Week begins in earnest. But today was Girona's, and I am glad I went.
