오비에도 오디오 투어: 오비에도의 숨겨진 이야기 오디오 어드벤처

As you’re coming up, look for a quiet, rectangular plaza lined with buildings in rich, honey-colored stone, and a grand entrance with two thick columns and ornate carvings right ahead. That's the Bishop’s Palace, one of the square’s main stars. On the left, spot a smaller building flying the Asturian, Spanish, and Vatican flags. Welcome to La Corrada del Obispo! Take a moment to imagine the centuries of footsteps on this stone. If you listen closely, you might hear echoing from history. This isn’t just any old plaza-it's Oviedo’s historic heart, right where the town’s stories come alive. Long ago, in the year 1521, most of Oviedo was swallowed by flames, including the original bishop’s palace. But like a hero in a story, it rose again in the 1500s, only to be wrecked once more in the 1930s and rebuilt carefully afterward. The only bit left of that old palace is the elaborate doorway you see, topped with four coats of arms-good luck spotting them all! To your right stands the imposing wall of the famous Cathedral’s cloister. In the 1700s, people felt the cathedral needed a little extra flair, and added a whole new floor with a dramatic Baroque entrance facing right into this very square. You could say the cathedral was a bit competitive with the bishop’s palace-nothing like a good old-fashioned neighborly rivalry. Picture this plaza packed with excited townsfolk in 1808. The air is tense as someone steps onto the balcony above the arched door to shout out big news: Asturias has declared war on France. Right here, history changed, and folks felt their hearts race at the sound. And just think, under your feet once ran old alleyways, and the plaza was once smaller, boxed in by houses-one of which even saw the birth of a famous lawyer! Over the years, it grew into the broad space you’re standing in now, ringed by memories, legends, and maybe, just maybe, a ghostly bishop or two popping in to make sure their palace is still the grandest spot in Oviedo. Ready to move on, or want to soak up a little more of that plaza magic?

As you’re getting closer, keep your eyes peeled for a stretch of old, polished wooden cabinets filled with books behind glass, neatly lining the wall. There are inviting armchairs and a sturdy wooden table settled right in front, all glowing under warm lights. This isn’t just any reading room-it’s the Library of the Archaeological Museum of Asturias, just ahead of you. Now, let me drag you back through time (no time machine required-just a little imagination). Standing here, you’re at the very heart of centuries’ worth of curiosity and discovery. This library is more than just a quiet spot to read about old bones and dusty ruins; it’s been a treasure chest of Asturian stories since the mid-1800s. When the monks and nuns left and the state took over old church buildings, someone had the bright idea to save art, books, statues-anything that whispered secrets about Asturias’ past. Back then, it started small, almost like an academic club’s secret stash. Picture nervous curators and scholars in long coats, arguing in the glow of candlelight over dusty manuscripts, determined to guard everything precious that they could find. By 1878, the collection was growing so fast, it outgrew its new shoes-first a chapel, then a room at a teacher’s college, and now here, within the museum’s walls. Here’s the fun part: as the library moved around, it kept getting bigger, like an old suitcase barely shutting as you pack more holiday souvenirs. And every librarian who worked here had their own tale-some had a knack for sorting chaos into order, others simply had passionate love affairs with old paper and ink. Even today, it’s more than a library. Researchers, students, archaeologists-they all come to this sunlit room in search of answers, or maybe just a good story buried in the stacks. If you were looking for mysterious treasures or lost kings, this would be the place to start. You can almost hear the echo of footsteps from scholars past-some searching for knowledge, some just hoping to find a bit more space for one more fascinating book. So, while you stand here and soak it all in, remember: this is the beating heart of Asturias’ history, packed in parchment, waiting for the next curious mind. And hey, at least here, you don’t need a shovel-just a love for stories and maybe a good lamp! Exploring the realm of the objetivos, historia or the espacio físico? Feel free to consult the chat section for additional information.

Right ahead of you, you’ll see the Monastery of San Vicente de Oviedo, looking proud and sturdy. Notice its thick, golden stone walls, standing tall like a fortress, and that square bell tower on the left, its window open to the sky. The front is simple, almost square, marked by a huge wooden door with metal bars, and just above, a round stained-glass window looks out over Oviedo like a quiet watchful eye. To find it, just look for the building that seems like it could hold secrets from a thousand years ago, set back a little from the street with a smooth stone plaza before it. Imagine stepping into a time machine and traveling back to the year 761. No phones, no noisy cars-just the wind whistling between empty hills, and two monks, Frómista and Máximo, arriving at this lonely, wild place with a spark of hope and a little courage. They weren’t just building a church-they were planting the very first seed of Oviedo, hoping one day it would grow into a city. Picture Frómista, the older monk, looking around what was then just wilderness, wondering if his nephew Máximo was brave enough not to run away at the first wolf howl at night. Together, they built the original church here, dedicated to Saint Vincent, a Christian martyr. They probably never imagined buses and cafes would one day fill the air where they once heard only silence and birds. Now, that old charter of theirs-the famous document called the Monastic Pact of Oviedo-claims this whole project kicked off with nothing but faith, a handful of serfs, and some serious optimism on November 25, 781. Though some say this story might be a bit exaggerated (you know, medieval monks were the original spin doctors), one thing’s for sure: you’re standing where Oviedo was born. Later on, this place was rebuilt in the Romanesque style, thick walls and small windows designed to stand up to storms and… maybe even an invading army or two. That square cloister behind these walls? It’s so important, it’s officially a National Historic and Artistic Monument. These days, it’s full of ancient treasures in the Archaeological Museum of Asturias-so yes, there’s more inside than just holy secrets. So while you’re here, listen to the echo of those first builders, every footstep a whisper from the past. And don’t worry-if you spot Frómista and Máximo, be sure to thank them for the city!

You’re now right in front of Oviedo’s City Hall, standing at the heart of Oviedo in Constitution Square, where the city’s big decisions are made and-let’s be honest-the paperwork never sleeps! Take a moment and imagine: it's the early 1600s, the air is heavy with whispers of plagues, pilgrims, and potato stew recipes nobody wants to share. In 1622, a creative fellow named Juan de Nava drew the plans for this building, and almost 50 years later, in 1671, the city finally had its home for politics, debates... and probably the occasional heated argument about whose turn it was to sweep outside. Back in the day, city life pulsed around here. And surviving a war wasn’t just for movies-this poor building took quite a hit during the Civil War! By 1940, they’d spruced up the outside and added a clock tower. If only the council meetings ran as precisely as that clock! Today, inside those historic walls, are 27 councilors, representing four political parties, each one convinced they can run the city better than the rest. The star of the show? Mayor Alfredo Canteli, and yes, he’s still got his seat-lucky guy. His team is made up of government councilors and a few delegated officers, each with their own corner of city duties...and their own keys to the break room, I bet. Right now-if the wind’s just right-you might catch snatches of city discussions, or maybe the hum of office life inside. But from the outside, it just looks like a classic piece of Oviedo, standing strong, keeping the secrets of centuries of city drama. If only those stones could talk! Or maybe it’s better they can’t-Oviedo’s city gossip would never end... Ready to keep moving? The next stop awaits!

As you’re coming up, take a look straight ahead-Fontán Square is right in front of you. The first thing you’ll spot is the rectangle of colorful buildings wrapping around the space. The houses are painted in warm reds, mellow greens, and soft yellows, all with neat dark trims. Most of them have charming little balconies, some dotted with flowers. The square is open and inviting, with busy outdoor cafés and rows of solid stone columns circling the inside-if you hear lively voices and see people milling about, you’re definitely in the right place. Now, close your eyes for a second and imagine this: hundreds of years ago, you’d be ankle-deep in water right here. Fontán Square started life as a natural lagoon, where springs bubbled up from the earth, turning this whole area into a watery playground for Oviedo’s nobles. Farmers used to wade over from outside the city, baskets in hand, to sell their milk, cheese, and even chickens right where you’re standing. And soon enough, the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer and shout of the crafters joined the mix. If you’re wondering about the name “Fontán,” it comes from those very springs-it simply means “big fountain.” But there’s a twist. All that water was pretty, but eventually it wasn’t exactly... clean. In 1523, the lagoon was drained, and over the centuries, new buildings and markets took its place. For a long time, this spot was even Oviedo’s version of a pop-up theater-imagine actors bellowing lines while locals perched on benches, with the smell of cheese, hay, and maybe even a stray chicken or two in the air. It wasn’t until 1885 that the great covered market you see next door was built, making Fontán the perfect spot for the hustle and bustle Oviedo is famous for. Oh, and a little local joke: you might notice a fountain here, but it’s so low to the ground, you’d have to bend down just to get a sip. Locals loved to tease anyone acting a bit too proud, saying, “Send them to drink from the Fontán fountain-nothing like a bit of bowing to keep egos in check!” Even a famous poet poked fun at it back in the 1930s. So look around, take a deep breath-can you almost hear the laughter from the old market, or imagine the noble ladies trying not to get their shoes muddy? Fontán Square is Oviedo’s living history-a place that’s always been for the people, whether they brought cheese, drama, or just a good appetite. Ready to keep exploring? There’s plenty more Oviedo magic where this came from!

To spot the Payment Management Palace of the Duke of the Park, look ahead for an imposing, cream-colored building with a wide, elegant façade. What gives it away instantly are the tall black shutters on the upper windows, lined up like soldiers on parade. Notice the strong pillars and detailed stonework along the ground-those vertical lines and sturdy corners will help you recognize the palace as you approach from the plaza. Take a moment here and imagine yourself stepping into the bustling Oviedo of the early 1700s. This was a palace built for real nobles-dukes and marquises who wanted to show everyone just how important they were. The Palace of the Duke of the Park, also called Palacio del Fontán, rises up in classic baroque style and was the work of a master architect, Francisco de la Riva. If this palace looks familiar, it’s because his designs inspired other grand mansions around town, like the Palacio de Camposagrado. Everything here is about making a statement! The palace has a grand, square footprint, with a lush garden tucked away inside-a secret space made for quiet strolls, or maybe for noble gossip. Don’t miss the main entrance: those thick, fluted columns frame a doorway so grand, you half-expect a march of musicians to come bursting out. The balconies above look ready for a dramatic royal wave, maybe even the odd surprise serenade from an admirer below-though in these days, I’d keep the love songs quiet. Peer up and notice the beautifully carved stones showing off the family crests. Those you see now are actually replacements from 1901, but don’t worry-they're no less grand. And if you wander behind, the palace has a hidden courtyard, with arched walkways held up by sturdy columns. Here’s a quirky detail for you-take a close look at the stable building angled next to the palace. Its doorway is carved with crests and flanked by heads of horses and jockeys. Clearly, the owners wanted everyone to know they had fine tastes and maybe even finer horses! So, as you stand here, picture the carriages coming and going, nobles in silk shoes, and the endless stories these old stones could tell-some historic, some just plain gossip. Now, ready to carry on to our next stop? Or would you rather try giving your most noble royal wave from the balcony? Just don’t let anyone catch you-it’s tougher to look dignified with pigeons as your audience!

Look ahead for a building that truly wants to be noticed-it’s tall and grand, with creamy white stone wrapping around rounded corners and huge windows peeking out like curious eyes. At the very top, you can’t miss the big copper dome, shining a little like a crown, and the large letters proudly spelling “Banco Herrero.” There’s even a clock above the entrance, so if you’re running late for the next stop, at least you’ll know exactly how late! Now, picture yourself standing in front of this impressive building on Calle Fruela. Imagine it’s 1911-horses clop down the street, men in hats and women in long skirts pass by, and everyone glances up at this brand-new bank, a true sign that Oviedo is growing and buzzing with life. Banco Herrero was born that year, thanks to a very ambitious local named Policarpo Herrero Vázquez. Actually, his legacy lasted three generations-this place was almost like the family treasure chest, with every new Herrero in charge passing the keys along, like the world’s most responsible game of “pass the parcel.” You’d never believe how far this bank tried to stretch its arms. They opened branches in Madrid, Gijón, Avilés, you name it-a bit like if Oviedo’s local bakery decided to sprinkle Asturias with croissants! But life isn’t always sweet. In the ’80s, Banco Herrero gobbled up Banca Masaveu, another Asturian bank, and was later bought by bigger sharks-first La Caixa, then Banco Sabadell. In a twist fit for a detective novel, Banco Herrero vanished as its own official company in 2002, right after being absorbed by Sabadell. But don’t worry-the spirit lives on under the name SabadellHerrero. It’s a bit like a superhero with a new costume! If the building looks a little familiar, you might have seen it in the film “Luz de domingo”-yes, it’s had its moment in the spotlight as well. And as you stand here, listen… can you almost hear the ringing of old coins, or the excited whispers of hopeful business owners lining up at these doors more than a hundred years ago? The Banco Herrero isn’t just a bank; it’s survived the drama of family sagas, financial thrillers, and even movie roles. Not bad for what started as just a local dream… and maybe the only bank where generations of presidents shared the same family dinners! Ready for the next stop?

Right in front of you is the General Meeting of the Principality of Asturias. If you look ahead, you’ll spot a rather dramatic entrance-modern, with solid wooden details and imposing geometric shapes. The building’s design almost looks like it’s inviting important discussions inside. Picture large glass windows catching the light and a flag or two standing proudly by the doors. You’ll know you’re at the right place if you see something that feels both official and a little mysterious, almost as if some big decisions are made just behind those walls. Imagine you are stepping inside-don’t worry, we’ll keep this a virtual adventure! The air is hushed and serious, but with a crackle of excitement, like the seconds before a big announcement. Welcome to the heart of Asturian democracy: the Junta General del Principado de Asturias! This is not just any building-it’s the supreme house of representation for all the people of Asturias. Every four years, citizens choose the people who come in here to debate, argue, laugh (quietly), and sometimes, maybe even nap-hey, those sessions can get long! These members, all forty-five of them, have one mission: to make laws, keep an eye on the government, and approve the all-important budget. That’s right, these folks decide where every euro in Asturias goes-wouldn’t you like to have that responsibility? Life inside the chamber can be dramatic. The members, called deputies, are grouped by the parties or coalitions they belong to. Debates can get so lively you can almost imagine little paper airplanes zooming overhead! If a deputy doesn’t play nice or changes teams, they go to the ‘mixed group’-think of it like the school lunch table for whoever doesn’t fit anywhere else. Drafting proposals, checking what the government’s up to, and sometimes arguing over the order of the day-everything happens under the sharp eyes of the president of the Junta, who sits up front. They control the flow, call for votes, and make sure no one tries to sneak snacks in during the session. Committees study special topics, while the full meeting, known as the Pleno, gets every deputy together for the big moments. Imagine everyone voting, raising their hands, and every decision echoing through Asturias. Now that you’ve stood where the laws of Asturias are made, how about we move on? Who knows-maybe after today, the next big political decision will feel just a little bit closer to home!

You’re almost at the Field of San Francisco, one of Oviedo’s most beloved parks. To spot it, look ahead for a wide, green space filled with lush grass, curving pathways, and a beautiful iron gazebo just up the hill on your left. There’s a good chance you’ll see some tall palm trees set among old oaks, and maybe even a proud peacock strutting across the lawn. That classic streetlamp by the path and the sense of calm in the air? You’ve found it. You’re standing in the heart of Oviedo’s green lung, the Field of San Francisco. Imagine, for a moment, that the gentle breeze through these trees has carried the secrets of nearly 800 years. Where you stand now was once the backyard veggie patch of a monastery. In the 1200s, a nobleman handed over these fields to the friars, and life here started growing - literally! Monks, bustling gardens, and the soft splash of spring water filled the air. The friars, no strangers to teamwork, dug channels for fresh water and carved paths for travelers, turning this wild patch into a sanctuary. But don’t get too comfy - back in the 1500s, you might have found yourself dodging 3,000 rowdy soldiers, all here for military drills. For a place known for peace, there’s been no shortage of action. Walk around and you’ll spot grand walkways like the Paseo del Bombé and the leafy Avenida Italia. Everywhere you turn, there’s a quiet surprise. The statue of Mafalda, the famous cartoon character, lounges on a bench. Stop by the monument to José Tartiere, who’d likely give you a friendly nod if he could. The park’s memory stretches out along Calle Uría, where, once upon a time, an enormous oak called the Carbayón towered over everything until it was cut down in the 1800s. People were so sad, they put up a plaque in its memory - it’s probably one of the fanciest tree funerals ever. While this field invites lazy strolls and daydreams, it’s also witnessed battles, parades, and the laughter of generation after generation. So go on - wander the winding paths, listen for whispers of the past, and maybe, just maybe, that peacock will show off his feathers for you too. Want to explore the historia, equipamientos or the puntos de interés in more depth? Join me in the chat section for a detailed discussion.

Just ahead, you’ll spot something unusual on your right-a spot marked with a commemorative plaque on the pavement. If you look for a small crowd or maybe just a bit of open space in the busy city street, you’re in the right place. Imagine a massive tree stretching across your view, its thick trunk almost wider than some cars, with heavy branches twisting above old lamp posts and cobblestone paths. That’s what this site once looked like, back when the legendary Carbayón stood tall right here. Alright, let’s paint the scene: Imagine yourself in 19th-century Oviedo. The city is just starting to buzz with the energy of new trains, carriages, and city plans. But at the very edge of the Campo de San Francisco, there’s something that dwarfs all this excitement-a colossal oak tree, known as El Carbayón. Not just any tree-this old fellow had a trunk nine meters around, two main bodies shooting upward like huge towers, and a leafy crown that seemed to give shade to the whole street. For centuries, El Carbayón was the pride and symbol of Oviedo, watching over the comings and goings of townsfolk, lovers, and plenty of street dogs looking for a cool spot. In fact, people from Oviedo still call themselves ‘carbayones’ thanks to this very tree. But, as with any good drama, change was coming. The city was growing, roads were being built, and the train station opened up. Suddenly, the great oak was… well, right in the middle of progress. It started to annoy the traffic on Calle de Uría. And to make things worse, poor Carbayón had grown old and infested with woodworms. So, in 1879, the city was split! Should they keep their ancient guardian, or make way for a shiny new Oviedo? After heated debates, votes, and probably a few mustaches twirled in deep thought, it was decided-the tree must go. It took just 192 pesetas to pay for the job, and on a day people still remember, El Carbayón was felled. Imagine the tension in the air-some wept, some cheered, and some probably just grumbled about the traffic as usual. Even though the old oak is gone, its legend lives on. There’s a plaque here, marking exactly where it once stood, and just nearby in the Campoamor Theater gardens, you can find El Carbayín, a young oak planted in memory of its mighty ancestor. So next time you hear someone from Oviedo called a ‘carbayón’, you’ll know they’re not being compared to an old oak tree… Or maybe they are, and that’s a pretty cool thing. Shall we carry on to our next stop? I promise, no trees will get in our way!

Look straight ahead and you can’t miss it-the grand, light-colored stone facade with the words “Teatro Campoamor” gleaming in gold above the doors. Notice the tall, elegant windows that stretch skyward on the upper floors and the three sets of arched doors on the ground level, perfectly framed by lantern-style street lights. The building is both solid and graceful at once, like it’s ready for a night at the opera or a royal event-because, quite often, it is! Now, as you stand in front of this magnificent building, just imagine the bustling excitement from 1892, when the curtain first rose right inside. The Campoamor Theater was born from a need-a stage big enough and grand enough for all the operas and theatre the city’s new wealthy crowd longed to see. Before this, performances were squeezed into the old Fontán Theatre. But Campoamor arrived with drama, located right where the old convent of Santa Clara once stood. Picture the mayor at the time, José Longoria Carbajal, determined to gift Oviedo something extraordinary. The project took years-life rarely goes as quickly as a one-act play. Finally, in 1883, the shell was finished. Then, the city named it after the famous Asturian poet, Ramón de Campoamor. He couldn’t make it to the opening show, so-here’s a twist even a theater audience would love-he sent his brother and a thousand pesetas to be shared with Oviedo’s poorest residents. The city handed out that money, 250 pesetas at a time, to each of the four parishes. That’s what you call a standing ovation for generosity! Opening night in 1892 featured the opera “Los Hugonotes” by Meyerbeer-imagine the music spilling out on a September evening. Over the years, Lucia di Lammermoor graced the stage, and the ovation tradition continued-making this the oldest continuous opera season in Spain, after Barcelona’s Gran Teatro del Liceo. But every good theater knows drama! In 1934, during the Revolution, the building suffered terrible damage. Only the main facade stubbornly survived, standing tall and proud amid the ruins. After the war, the theater rose from its ashes, opening once again with “Manón” in 1948-back to life, brighter than ever. Renovations continued, from backstage trickery to a sparkling new stage, lush modern lighting, roomy orchestra pits, and all the behind-the-scenes magic you’d expect from a theater that’s seen over 130 years of ovations, near-misses, comebacks, and costumes. These days, about 1,491 seats welcome guests on five grand levels. And if you happen to wander by after sunset, don’t miss the theater glowing with special lights funded by the Hidrocantábrico foundation. And here’s the encore: each fall, Oviedo’s red carpet moment arrives with the Princess of Asturias Awards-stealing the spotlight and filling the city with whispers and excitement. So, stand tall, take a bow, and don’t be surprised if the spirit of an old opera or two follows you to your next stop! Fascinated by the historia, actualidad or the capacidad? Let's chat about it

To spot the Convent of Santa Clara, look ahead for a long, rectangular stone building with two floors. The ground floor is lined with repeating arches, almost like a corridor of shadows, while the upper floor is dotted with iron balconies above each arch. It’s set behind a small, leafy courtyard that’s a bit sunken from street level, with elegant greenery and benches inviting you to pause. The convent blends in with its surroundings but gives itself away with those graceful Baroque arches and sturdy stonework. Alright, you made it! Imagine yourself standing here in front of a building that’s been keeping secrets for centuries. In the 1200s, a group of fearless Franciscan nuns picked this spot-then the edge of Oviedo-to build their peaceful retreat. You won’t find the original Romanesque doorway or all the carved capitals here; legends say they wandered off to another palace in Llanera, perhaps for a quieter life. But what you do see now is the ever-stoic porter’s lodge and the remains of the cloister, which survived expansions, renovations, and a pretty dramatic makeover by an ambitious architect in the 1960s. The façade you’re facing on Covadonga street stands on a tall stone base, as if it’s bravely pushing back against the city’s hilly terrain. Check out those chunky stone columns rising up-Baroque with a touch of drama! In the center, there’s a shell-shaped niche cradling a statue of Saint Clare herself. If you squint, you might make out a weathered coat of arms above her, a symbol of the order watching over all who pass by. Now, here’s a fun detail: in the 18th century, workers hurried to finish the cloister before lunch, using only simple units-palms and feet. No fancy rulers for these folks! The three preserved sides of the cloister are pure rhythm, all smooth lines and proud arches. And let’s not forget that strange twist; in the 1800s, the convent’s vegetable garden was auctioned away and ended up as a metal factory, so Saint Clare went from prayers to pistons next door. You see, life in Oviedo is always full of surprises! Feel the cool shadow in the cloister, listen to the distant hum of the city. If these stones could talk, they’d whisper about the footsteps of nuns, architects, iron workers, and maybe even a mischievous guide or two. And now, with your tour nearly complete, take a moment. The Convent of Santa Clara stands as a calm island in a fast-moving city, a reminder that history is never as quiet as it looks. Ready for the next adventure? Let's keep walking!