Although Soria is considered one of the smallest cities in Spain—so small, in fact, that its inhabitants traditionally suffer from the same syndrome of resilient institutional invisibility that also characterizes Teruel, making it seem as if it doesn't exist—it possesses a wealth of not only historical, but also artistic and cultural richness.
This makes this community, which for centuries was anchored in the decisive landscape of the Duero River, a border that separated the two Spains that existed before the poet Antonio Machado revived the myth of Guelphs and Ghibellines, one of the most fascinating places to experience a Gothic adventure, without needing to resort to the subterfuges of H.G. Wells and his novelistic time machine.
This becomes even more evident if, backpack on shoulder, logbook in hand, and camera at the ready, we embark on this dreamlike journey and explore, above all, its old town—that metaphorical treasure island where History embraces Legend and Mystery, which, like witches, also exists—promises an unforgettable experience.
Wandering through places like Calle Caballeros, from the heights where the Church of the Virgin of the Thorn stands, past the cemetery where one can still find a rose on the gravestone of Leonor, Machado's first wife, and even the elm tree struck by lightning, and descending towards the Provincial Council building and the Romanesque church of San Juan de Rabanera, can be a starting point for glimpsing those shadows of fallen knights and those echoes of ancient battles, which, according to the locals, are often legendary family tales.
Descending afterward, wandering through the narrow streets of neighborhoods where the strange apparitions of a mysterious White Lady are said to have occurred, and whose alleyways, according to the elders, are supposedly crisscrossed by enigmatic tunnels connecting palaces and churches, can be a good complement to ascending to the heights of Mirón, listening to a bell tolling on its own, and having a privileged vantage point from which to observe this magical riverbank that still preserves the old war cry of the Templars and even the infamous Autos-da-fé of the dreaded Inquisition.
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