When one imagines an experience abroad that leaves a lifelong impression, they probably don’t think much of cows — but in Covadonga, a regional treasure tucked in the lush and rocky terrain of Asturias, shaggy cows come by the field-full. During my short month among the ranks of slacked Spaniards in leather loafers and American students equally as eager to find their next perfect souvenir as the vendors were to sell them, I saw a lot of beauty. I could mention the layers upon layers of medieval streets that wind to and fro, in and out of parks and markets and loud local festivals. I might compliment the impressive metropolis that is Madrid, a city that never shuts its eyes to slumber, or the intense passion Spaniards of every kind harbor for their culture. However, since touching down back in the Midwest, a wonderful place where strangers make a habit of smiling at each other (something you will without a shadow of a doubt not experience in mainland Europe), the scenes that cross my mind aren’t the foreigner-stuffed Madrid clubs nor the fishermen’s vessels lolling at sea on whichever dockside, but the mountains of Covadonga, calm and tall and capped with cloud.

Covadonga strikes an American as akin to our National Parks; there are rangers, although they look a little less like boy scouts, and concrete lots for the surprisingly light traffic — because unlike the US parks I’ve visited, the flow of foot traffic in Covadonga is far from irritating. The most treacherous part of the journey (besides the occasional rogue cow that plays a game of ‘bowling’ in which she is the heavy ball and the tourists are unwilling pins) is the ascent into the mountains. For those with a fear of heights, don’t look down. For those who enjoy a scenic drop-off dotted with pines and the occasional rancher’s abode, look down. Also, pray your driver watches for stray cows in the road. This lasts for about 25 minutes in an oversized tour bus.

Upon entering the park, you learn why experienced study-abroaders to the region prefer this to even the beautiful sand beaches and historic Spanish towns. Covadonga is situated beneath the towering Picos de Europa and features sprawling, crystal-clear lakes. Tourists, a mixed batch of Spaniards and others, larp as explorers as they scale the rocky hills to secure a most beautiful bird’s-eye view.

My recommendations: You’ll need walking shoes; climbing these hills even with a path is no joke. Take water; there are stalls below the parking lot should you drink too much. Take lunch; a bocadillo — an under seasoned and under stuffed Spanish sandwich — will suffice. Explore, but be safe — it’s rocky out there; admire the livestock from afar. A few hours will ensure enough time to feel satisfied with your trek around the glacial lakes in the crisp altitude

The beating heart of Covadonga lies beyond the grassy knoll grazed by mountain cattle and deeper into the wooded peaks: the Santa Cueva and pink limestone basilica alike beckon tourists into a thorough visit. The extended group of estudiantes Americanos de español (and a handful of impressively bilingual cultural studies students) funneled back into our bus for another breath-hitching commute up tight, tight passes. The basilica stood like a soldier at attention as its spires scratched the big blue sky, and we funneled out the accordion-style bus door just as we had funneled in to behold one of the premier historic sites in Christian history. While basilica doors are ajar to a curious public, it’s important to keep all cameras in your pockets and refrain from photography in religious zones —something Covadonga staff will professionally remind you. There’s a special something peaceful and moving about the grandeur of a Spanish Catholic church. Iconographic depictions of Mary, or Jesus, or assorted saints of all sizes and disciplines gaze lovingly, knowingly down at the petitioners from their wooden or marble visages. On each high wall a crucifix hangs, reminiscent of Christianity’s bloody history.

For someone who was raised under a Christian roof, I find the imagery and relics both fascinating from a practical sense and impactful for the spirit. In the same realm of spiritual enlightenment, the Santa Cueva—the holy cave—serves as the shiny crown jewel for all things Covadonga. Carved into a humble cliffside crevice, the yes-actually-a-cave-in-the-wall homes La Virgen de Covadonga, a physical representation of the Virgin Mary. The Virgin of Covadonga serves as a kind of signature for the region of Asturias; she’s found pressed into gold jewelry on the necks of passersby, painted in elaborate decorative murals, and in street names. According to Spanish legend, the Virgin of Covadonga appeared before King Don Pelayo and his Christian army during the eighth century AD. The Virgin led them to an unprecedented victory against the Moors, beginning the Reconquista of Spain and severing the country from prior Islamic rule. When the opportunity to custom-choose the topic for a class presentation (a universal form of punishment for language learners all across the globe) arose in our Spanish conversation class, my project partner and I had no difficulties in opting to highlight our excursion through the shell of the Picos and into the pearl that is the Santa Cueva. More than happily, I chose to tackle the rich history of the site: wars and kings and saints.

Since returning to the U.S., I’ve still found reminders of Covadonga in my daily activities and thoughts, and for this I want to share my experience not just with my small classroom thousands of miles from home, but right here in the Mizzou community.

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Learn more about this blogger’s study abroad program: Spanish Language, Literature and Culture