A Coruña in a coffee-fueled haze

i woke up to the sound of rain tapping the balcony and thought, why not write a messy blog post? the city is a mix of old stone and new wifi signals, and i’m constantly juggling a laptop, a sketchbook, and a half‑finished latte. someone told me that the old lighthouse is haunted at midnight, and honestly i’m not sure if that’s a rumor or just the wind playing tricks on tourists. i just checked and it's a misty drizzle, kind of moody, hope you like that kind of thing. the streets are slick, the locals hustle with umbrellas like they’re part of a coordinated flash mob, and the air smells of salt and espresso.

the neighbors thing? if you get restless, [cities] are just a short drive away. i’ve earmarked a couple of coastal towns that promise surf without the crowds, perfect for a quick escape when the office Wi‑Fi starts yelling at me. i’m still figuring out the best spot to set up my temporary base, and the coworking space on rua del mar keeps stealing my focus with its killer view of the harbor. *café, cobblestones, and sunrise keep popping up in my notes, and i’ve started treating each as a mantra for the day.

i spotted a tiny gallery tucked behind a fish market, and the owner whispered that the best tapas are served after midnight, but you have to know the right password (it’s “oliva”). the vibe is raw, a little gritty, and totally worth the occasional splashing puddle that forces you to dance around puddles like a toddler. check the tide before you plan a beach walk, they say, because the sea can be cheeky. speaking of which, the beach just beyond the promenade is a hidden gem, and i snagged a shot that i’m sharing here:

i also found a quiet spot where the city’s heartbeat slows down, perfect for a late‑night brainstorming session or a quick meditation. the map below shows where i’m currently perched, right in the middle of the old quarter, close enough to hear the church bells but far enough to feel insulated from the tourist rush.

when i’m not hunting for Wi‑Fi, i’m scrolling through local boards and stumbling upon events that feel like secret handshakes. the free walking tour that starts at the plaza at ten is a goldmine for stories, and the guide’s accent makes every legend sound like a bedtime story. i’ve bookmarked a few places on TripAdvisor for when i need a solid recommendation, and i’ve also bookmarked a hidden coffee spot on Yelp that only opens at 7 am on Tuesdays. if you’re into meet‑ups, the Galicia Meetups group posts about pop‑up markets and indie film screenings that feel like a DIY film festival.

i’ve gotta mention the weather again because it’s a constant antagonist in my day plans. the forecast says the drizzle will linger until tomorrow, so i’m packing an extra layer and a waterproof notebook. the city’s cafés are alive with the hum of laptops and the clink of cups, and i’m constantly reminded that productivity can be a sandcastle built on shifting sand. stay flexible*, they say, and i’m learning to love the unpredictability.

if you want to see more of the city’s hidden corners, check out these Unsplash shots that capture the gray sky meeting the blue sea:

i’m still figuring out the perfect routine, but one thing’s clear: a drizzle can be a muse, a cobblestone can be a stepping stone, and a random stranger’s gossip can turn into a story worth sharing. so if you ever find yourself in a place where the rain writes its own poetry, just grab a coffee, find a spot with a view, and let the city whisper its secrets. and remember, if you get restless, [cities] are just a short drive away.