I could show you pictures of the ancient buildings and sculptures, but until you touch the blond sandstone mined centuries ago from the deep quarry of Castile-Leon, you can’t truly understand.
I could tell you about walking around the city at 11:00 pm amidst the many residents still out eating and enjoying conversation, but until you hear Miguel playing easy jazz from his saxophone outside the Casa de la Conches long into the night, you can’t truly understand.

I could describe how amazing and inexpensive the food is, but until you walk in and buy two incredible tapas and a bottle of water from Casa Paca for a handful of change, you can’t truly understand. Salamanca has a way of catching you off guard.

You arrive and see this façade of beauty that you’re sure is just a remnant of the past, but you soon find that underneath the heavily sculpted stone lies something unprecedented; honesty.

The Cetedral Nueva still bears the scars of the 1755 Lisbon Earthquake, and the repairs done at the time to keep it standing.  The relics are real.  The history is not just in books within the several libraries throughout the university city, but literally carved in to the stones which compose the city itself.

Not only was I taken by the city, but the residents as well.  My host mother was more than I could hope for, and she is never far from helping with anything she can.

I have yet to have a bad experience in any business, even though there can be a definite language barrier at times.  Everyone is helpful and patient, and more often than not trying to learn English themselves.

On several occasions I have met someone wanting to learn English while we speak, and the simple purchase turns into a small conversation, usually ending in a lot of laughs.  It became quickly apparent the residents are as honest as the city they inhabit.

Although I will be leaving in a matter of weeks, I will forever be changed by this place, but until you walk the streets as I have, you can’t truly understand.