Oviedo Travel: Day Two in Spain's Cleanest City

San Francisco Park, Oviedo

Next Step in Oviedo Travel

Once I woke up on day two, I had two priorities: to wander and observe, and to find a vegan restaurant. According to Google Maps—and my sometimes-too-helpful friend ChatGPT—there was one in casco antiguo, the Old Town. So I set off on foot, still the best way to explore any city worth its salt. Salt. Food. Get it?

First Impressions: Clean, Safe, and Steep

Oviedo is often cited as one of the cleanest and safest cities in Spain. Streets are spotless, trash is minimal, and even the parks feel intentional and cared for. Compared to larger Spanish cities like Madrid or Barcelona, the difference is obvious. That was my immediate and strong impression.

Spotless sidewalks—yet no overflowing trash cans in sight

Also, the city is hillier than I'd expected. There's a touch of San Francisco here, both in topography and charm.

Brick by Brick: Oviedo’s Residential Character

Reddish-brown brick buildings, especially from the mid-20th century, are common in the outer neighborhoods. They’re not Oviedo’s signature look—that would be pre-Romanesque churches, stone civic structures, and Asturian balconies—but they represent a functional, lived-in chapter of the city’s past from the Franco era or just after.

Reddish-brown buildings are pleasing to the eye

That pink—and those balconies!

Casco Antiguo de Oviedo: No Cars, No Noise

The Old Town is about a 25-minute walk from my apartment, and like most historic European centers, it's filled with pedestrian-only streets. A break from car culture—thank you, Oviedo.

Relief from car culture

Sadly, the vegan restaurant I was headed to didn’t exist. Yes, there was a restaurant at the pinned location, but when I asked if they had anything vegan, I got a flat “No.” So much for digital optimism.

Centuries of Stone: Churches and Cathedrals

My disappointment didn’t last, however. Old Town Oviedo is full of the kind of buildings that Southern Californians would call “ancient” if they were 50 years old. These? Try centuries.

San Isodoro el Real Church, 16th Century

Built in the late 1500s, San Isidoro el Real Church started as part of a Jesuit college and was later declared a royal church. Today it stands as a Baroque gem anchoring the city center.

Then came the mother of all cathedrals: San Salvador, Oviedo’s most revered religious site. Dating back to the 8th century, it houses relics in the UNESCO-listed Cámara Santa and serves as a key pilgrimage stop. Not Spain’s biggest, but definitely among the most sacred.

Catedral de San Salvador de Oviedo

Coffee, Arcades, and Architecture

Somewhere between churches, I paused at a sidewalk café (called cafeterías in Spain) for a croissant and coffee. The coffee was rich without being harsh. Starbucks could learn a thing or two.

I got wonderfully lost in the winding medieval lanes. Some streets curve around the city's ancient walls, others open onto shaded arcades. Oviedo knows how to mix stone and sunlight.

Covered arcade in Oviedo’s Old Town--part of the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

One of Oviedo’s quiet medieval streets with ancient stonework

This gorgeous building caught my eye:

BBVA branch: classical elegance with ornate balconies

This was once the Banco Asturiano, now a BBVA branch. For the curious: BBVA stands for Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria. The name “Argentaria” comes from the Latin for silver—no relation to Argentina.

A Literary Encounter

Near the BBVA bank, I met this sharply dressed gentleman

“El Viajero” — The Traveler stands ready with coat, hat, and luggage

This bronze figure is a fictional traveler inspired by This bronze figure is a fictional traveler inspired by Clarín’s La Regenta, the 19th-century novel set in a fictionalized Oviedo. As statues go, this one's got style.

Campo de San Francisco: Green Space with a Soul

On the walk back, I finally reached Campo de San Francisco, the city’s most famous park and the must-see at the top of my list in my Oviedo travel.

Clarín, the author of La Regenta, watches over Oviedo’s most beloved park in quiet bronze

Dating back to the early 1500s when it was a Franciscan convent garden, the park became public in the 19th century. Today, it’s a serene urban oasis, full of trees, statues, and locals soaking up the calm. I didn’t have time to wander far—next visit, I’ll do it right.

Irresistible green

Reflections: Race, Kindness, and the Unexpected

After 24 hours in Oviedo, some things stood out—beyond the architecture.

Yes, Oviedo is majority white, but I was surprised by how many mixed-race and Black African people I saw. I’ve heard claims from Latino friends in LA that “the Spanish are racist,” a rather racist declaration in itself. I’ve heard African-Americans say “they stare at you.” But in my experience? Not once. No stares, no side-eyes. Just normal interaction.

At a bar near my apartment, I saw a mixed group—Africans, Spaniards, and others—drinking and laughing together. Two teenage boys passed me on the street, one Black, one white, both in soccer jerseys. No tension. No hesitation.

At a pharmacy, the pharmacist struck up a friendly chat and gave me tips on housing—offering his number in case I needed help. Not flirting. Just kindness.

When I fumbled with my phone to take a selfie with the Clarín statue, a smiling Spanish woman rushed over to offer help. Not suspicion. Just decency.

Even on day one, as I was checking mailboxes for my Airbnb key, I expected someone to challenge me. In the U.S., a Black man peering into mailboxes gets questioned. Here? Passersby said "Hola!" and "Hasta luego!"

I’m not naïve. Spain has its issues—likely in hiring practices, among other areas—but the overt hostility and hyper-vigilance I carry from life in the U.S.? So far, it hasn’t followed me here. A bar owner even invited me in because he saw me arrive the day before and wanted to say welcome. That’s not suspicion. That’s humanity.

Final Thought: What Happened, America?

There’s a love for this city that radiates from its residents. You can see it in the cleanliness, the walkability, the intentional public spaces. There are no trash cans because people don’t toss trash. That says everything about their pride and care, their commitment to making the city harmonious and welcoming. So I’ll ask it plainly: what the hell has happened to you, America?