There’s something romantic about castles. I always imagined living in one. Maybe it’s the fairy tale notion of being a Queen in a castle. I don’t really know. But the thought appeals to me and makes my heart skip a beat when I think about it.
The word: castle conjures up so many fantasies and scenarios. When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with being in a castle: to really see the castle, not just some tourist trap or landmark and explore its hidden treasures.
I’m a bit of a thrill-seeker, but not the kind that would bungee jump or climb Mount Everest. Frankly, this girlie-girl loves her extremities, so frost bitten toes are not part of my thrill-seeking adventure. How on earth would I ever wear my Choos sans pinky?
So when an opportunity to study abroad in Segovia, Spain presented itself, I said, “Sí, Sí Sí. Sign me up!" Imagine me, with an explosive imagination, going to the land of kings and queens, gorgeous Spaniards, gypsies and home of Flamenco music. My heart burst with unbridled enthusiasm. I was nineteen years old with a heart filled with the stuff romance novels are made.
With a stuffed suitcase, I flew off to Spain and would soon be joined with my seven classmates and Spanish professor to study abroad. Grammar and literature wasn’t all I had in mind. Segovia, Spain has an impressive castle~El Alcázar. And I had a fantasy to fulfill.
Even Disney loved the Alcázar and fashioned the theme park with one very similar. Being in Segovia with the Alcázar was like putting a chocoholic in the middle of a Hershey’s factory. I was up to the adventure and began plotting and planning, smacking my lips with the delicious thought of exploring this world-renowned fortress.
Naturally in my fantasy, there would be modern medicine, good dental care and penicillin…oh! And central air and heat. No point being in a romantic castle without proper amenities. Let's not forget indoor plumbing, too.
Throughout my life, I always find myself in a pickle. Sometimes it’s just happenstance. Other times, I kind of…sort of… bring the relish on myself. A friend lamented, “It isn’t easy being you,” after he witnessed me getting tickled by no fault of my own in the Marienplatz by a passerby, lead astray by dancing Tunisians and most recently, having been threatened to be kicked off a train in Palermo.
Well, no one said that life would be easy, but I certainly have had some fun and <ahem> interesting adventures. For some reason, crazy things just seem to happen to me. I think I must take after my favorite Uncle Larry with the gorgeous, mischievous eyes who was the original wedding crasher back in the day.
Segovia, Spain…
The day started so innocently. My friend and classmate, Susan, and I were touring the Alcázar castle.
I knew there had to be hidden passage ways and walls that when pushed in the right spot, would turn and voila! you’d end up in a different room with the wall immediately slamming shut, locking you into an entirely different part of the castle. A scary but exciting fantasy that I concocted since I was about twelve.
My imagination soared and I convinced Susan that we should plan on spending the night inside the castle sometime. We stood on top of the tower, overlooking the entire city of Segovia, deciding what we should bring for our secret rendezvous.
Since castles lack electricity, we needed candles, matches, and having a notoriously fast metabolism-food and lots of it. We would dress warm and when all the tourists would leave one by one, we would hide behind something grand, remain silent and wait for the guards to lock up.
Feeling smug, we shook hands and planned our espionage for the coming weekend when the castle would be bustling with tourists and we could get lost in the crowd. Perfect.
The sun was setting. We were filled with naughty, mischievous thoughts. I worried that if found, we could get deported. But at the time, it seemed worth the risk. After all, we weren’t really criminals, just curious college girls…so, deportation seemed ludicrous. With the sun completely gone, we were cold. Really cold and the only people remaining on top of the tower.
We went down the narrow, treacherous winding staircase trying to avoid hitting our heads or falling on the slippery stairs…all two hundred-thirty of them only to discover that the iron door was closed. And when I reached for the door knob, it was locked. How could this be? We raced back up the stairs, thinking we had overlooked another door leading back into the castle. But, no. There was only one door. We hurried down the crazy stairs and began banging on the door, yelling, “Let us out. Let us out!”
No one heard. We were locked in the castle…well, actually the stairwell and as the temperature dropped, we panicked. This was not quite the adventure I had in mind. Susan found an opening between large stones. She insisted that since we were already there, she could crawl through the space and see if that lead back into the castle.
I may be adventurous. But, I’m not stupid. And I’m certainly not brave. There was no way I would follow after her. And besides, it was a small, dark crawl-space which to my overactive imagination had to be infested with all things creepy and crawly and perhaps an infestation of vermin. Mice, snakes, rodents, oh my! Forget the oh-my. This wasn’t Oz. It was simply: Ugh.
What happened to my fantasy of sitting on a velvet couch with candles, having some wine and cheese, deciding which walls to push? All of this evaporated slowly as reality set in. We were truly locked in.
Susan didn’t realize her size was a bit larger than the crawl space and her body only made its way to her curvaceous girly hips. I pulled and tugged at her legs until she was completely out, dusty and dirty. That girl really has guts, I thought.
“Now what do you want to do, Einstein,” she teased.
“Well, the only thing we can do. Let’s go to the top of the tower and see if anyone is below and yell.”
And so we did. The militia stood below in their dark uniforms, pointing and screaming at us, as a laughing crowd gathered. Embarrassment soon took a detour as relief filled my soul. We were going to be rescued!
Four guards made their way up two hundred-thirty stairs and shook their heads at us. We just shrugged and looked guilty. What could we say?
The tallest asked us if we wanted to see the dungeon.
Since we were in the castle anyway, I thought, The dungeon! How cool! Impulsively, I said, “¡Sí, Sí, Sí!”
Knowing that the dungeon was off limits to tourists, I just had to see what it looked like and get the private tour. Susan and I followed the men to a room that had wrist and ankle cuffs attached to stone walls. The dank room was dark and ominous. Good sense kicked in. Like where was it moments ago? Going down into a sound proof dungeon with four military men. My parents had taught me better. Why do I always get carried away with mystery and intrigue?
One man whisked Susan away, grabbing her arm. My eyes shot wide open. And my thumping heart could probably be heard all the way to Madrid. I was scared. And alone. Except for three strong military men.
The men circled me and began touching my long Cher-like hair. One told me what they had in mind. And it certainly wasn’t dinner and a movie. So, I did what came naturally. I cried like a baby. Loud and hard.
The men looked perplexed. I screamed at them in Spanish,” How would you feel if strange men made indecent remarks to your mothers or sisters?”
“¡Dios mio! Dios mio! Lo siento mucho, señorita! Lo siento!” And with many apologies later, they called to their friend who was in another room with Susan and told him we were leaving.
Susan and her military man returned, cheeks blazing. I rolled my eyes, speculating about her adventure and followed the other men out of the castle. They escorted us like gentlemen to the plaza as they continued to apologize profusely.
As we walked down the cobblestone pathway, I whispered to Susan, “Want to try again tomorrow night?”
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