Of beds and pillow

I was, of course, aware of how important my bed and pillow are to me. Or so I thought. I am not complaining, much, the beds have been mostly good, though slightly narrower than our home queen. They are of course all of a different consistency and not quite shaped to my needs. The pillows are also OK...but......on a double bed, they are a single long pillow. That means I can't tuck the corner in just so, to get the perfect angle, coz there is no corner in the direction I normally fall asleep, it is a continuation onto Marjan's pillow.

This is really important when I turn the Polo around and realize two things; firstly I have not had jamon or chorizo in two days; and secondly I have to drive the car down the equivalent of 12 stories along narrow, cobbled streets. Marjan has come to similar realizations as she is, in deference to Spanish Catholicism, worrying at imaginary rosary beads and muttering the words God and Jesus a lot. This is where a perfect night sleep is essential. So yes beds and pillows are very important.

I suddenly realize that the next town will invariably have a bar with a hanging jamon with one of those upside down umbrella things catching the fat and my arteries settle down into hardened contentment and we head down, foot on brake all the way until we finally get to the hairpin bend that marks the towns exit onto the 'main' road. Existential angst over. Normal, gut wrenching fear at driving on the wrong side of the road next to a cliff takes over.

We tried to make for Pesquadera de el Ebro. Apparently it has a magnificent views of  the Ebro Cañón. We found the town, another one lane town. We found the Ebro, a one lane bridge over it. We did not find the lookout. Still the drive had been awesome. 

We then got up into the high plains. It looked cold and even the deer we spotted seemed to be shivering. We spotted some odd stone pillars by the road, two to three metres high and about a metre round. We figured they must have been snow markers. There were windmills everywhere, serious wind energy up here. Also fields of dried sun flowers with blackened heads drying in the dry, high air. It must have been a feast of yellow in summer.

We wound our way down to lower ground and past Burgos, past the town called Mercerreyes which interestingly had hobbit style housing. This is El Cid country. He was one of the early folk driving the moors out of this part of the country. We stopped at the thriving metropolis of Covarrubias. Apparently this has been a town since about 640. It was founded by the Visigoth king Chindasvinto. It is in a way the birthplace of Castilla as the first two counts of Castilla were made here and are buried in the church around 950.  Lovely place that looks a bit tudorsih because the architectural style of Castilla is similar to the Tudor style. Beams and stone  and mud brick.

A nice pit stop and then we drove on to Santo Domingo de Silos. The major reason for coming here was the Gregorian chants. The town is a giant at 294 inhabitants. The monks here have been singing regularly since they established the place in the seventh century. The Gregorian bit is new, they only switched to that in the 11th century, before that they sang in Mozarabic. We checked out their 1:45 service, it IS a religious service. I think Marjan was underwhelmed. It was not a loud , Dutch male choir sound. I found it quite spiritual. No, really, I know it is difficult to believe, but under this cured meat eating exterior is a tiny core that can appreciate beauty, maybe, just maybe, even has a soul. I found the soft, rhythmic almost gentle chanting very uplifting. So much so that I managed to forgive Marjan when she laughed at me about the way I looked on the borrowed bike, with the seat collaped to its lowest point, as we rode back to the monastery we were staying at just out of town.

Had a nice chap manning the bar at the convent. (It is Spain, therefore the last phrase makes sense). El Cid drove the moors out, now they have Arabs working the tourist places. Apparently things are really tough. He tells me that with unemployment and cost of living the way it is going, he and his family are thinking of moving elsewhere. This is a story I have now heard more than once. Made us glad to think we still felt there was a future for our kids in our country.

We went back to the abbey after a nap, well Marjan napped, I blogged, and took the tour, the only way of seeing it. We were shown around by a knowledgable and amusing monk. Marjan got a bit of the Spanish. It was fascinating. I was quite taken by the ceiling art work, the vast majority of which is not religious but rather just plain medieval morality tales. A couple of those tales are decidedly anti-cleric. 

By the time we got out it was darkening, but we went up the hill for a look.

It was also starting to rain, and I suspect the temperature was approaching zero. Marjan's four layers of clothes, which included thermals, were not keeping her warm, and even I had donned a windcheater over the t-shirt and was wondering if I might regret not bringing a coat. So we decide to forgo the vespers service and head back to our nice warm, converted convent and plan our second three course meal of the day. 

Burgos, we are in the Burgos region, is renowned for its morcilla. So cured meat is back on the menu!

See you in Segovia. I could not be in this part of the world and pass up the Roman aqueduct and the Alcazar.........I won't mention the cochinillo if you don't.

Skart country

I had not heard of skart before but that is what this landscape is all about. If has soft water permeable rock and so the rain soaks through leaving the surface relatively dry and barren. Of course we are inside the cañon de el Ebro, so there is plenty of water at the bottom. But at the top, some of the stuff we drove through yesterday, it is not very productive land, and only low level scrub grows on it.

The Ebro is probably akin to the Murray. It is nearly the longest river in Spain at 930km and has the biggest drainage area covering Cantabria in the NW through to Catalunya on the Mediterranean East. Apparently it was the natural border between Roman and Carthagenian Spain. Here it is carving out a decent size canyon for us to explore. Not Grand Canyon magnificence, but lovely nonetheless. 

The town of Orbaneja Del Castillo sits half way up the cliff at the base of a natural cave/spring. As such it has a waterfall working its way through the middle of town. Apparently when the rains come it can get quite solid. It sits across the Ebro from El Castillo (hence the name), a boat prow remnant of the high plain formed by a sharp bend in the river. Also across the way are Los Camellos, a rock formation that resembles two camels snogging.

We had arranged a 7:30 breakfast before Jose headed off to his day job. Well the first we knew he was working his way down the stairs and we were still in bed as we had slept in. Feeling guilty about getting him up when the normal breakfast time is 9:30 to 11:00, we dressed an wandered down. It is strange how the two B&B places we have stayed at are mostly managed by men, without sight of their wives......they do have them, or at least they said they did.

Anyway, fortified by food we decided on a walk to the next town. Escalada is about five kilometers away along the river, so that seemed a good way to start. This is all part of Parque Natural 'Hoces de Alto Ebro y Rudrón'. Not quite a national park but a protected area. 

The walk was lovely among lots of yellowing vegetation with the river a constant presence. We recognised poplars, oaks, holly, blackberry but many others were not well known to us. It was just wonderful and colourful. Plenty of mushrooms around as well. We also spotted a red squirrel leaping from branch to branch. And a constant was the presence of Griffin Vultures above us. At one point Marjan counted 10 visible at one time.

We made it to the next town in good shape and decided to seek sustenance. We found the church. 12th century but in disrepair. The frescoes outside the door were almost gone, and the carvings almost totally eroded.

But no bar. A spanish town with no bar. I am still stunned. So we walked to the next town along, Escalada-Quintanilla. They did have a bar. It was open and prepared to serve us coffees, beers, salad and croquettes on a verandah overlooking the river.  I also got to overhear a couple of older folk discussing the difficulties of living in small country towns as they age, and the advisability of selling up and moving to the big smoke at Burgos where doctors were handier. 

We ate, we listened and after a while we felt refreshed enough for the walk back.

The walk back inolved quite a few less photo stops as we were both getting tired. We had been out walking, apart from a brief stop at the bar, from 9:30 till 3:00 and had covered somewhere upwards of 14 km. Hard to tell with the number of photo stop detours. Marjan reckons this is a new record in her recent walking capacity. That is probably why she is currently napping. 

The impressions of this place are that it is yellow, so many of the trees are yellowing. Ordessa was russet red, el cañon del Ebro is yellow. Yellow and blue when the sun is out.

On our way back to our digs we saw one of the other eating places was open for lunch (three being a respectable Spanish lunch time) so with the offer of ready money they agreed to cook for us tonight.  He does meat on the indoor parrilla (BBQ) . What he was doing for lunch looked and smelled pretty good. 

Just back from dinner and yes it was good. Marjan had Marrakesh lamb skewer and I had a steak. Done a treat. We were the only guests and had a long chat to the co-owner, or rather she had a long chat to us. A German woman who married a local bloke and has been here for 28 years. She was up for a chat and we were ready to listen. It was a pleasant way to learn a little more of the place.

Off again tomorrow, into mainstream Castilla. A town called Santo Domingo De Silos.........yes we are bringing you all the main places.

James' way

We set off from San Sebastián after breakfast. James the GPS was sulking so we drove around in circles for a while until we got some clear directions. We were heading along the Basque coast and because I am trying to avoid toll-roads James decided to use the slowest possible route. We drove through lots off 50kph, 40, 30 and even 20kph zones. It is incredibly hilly and green, but it is sometimes hard to tell where one town ends and the next starts. I don't think we did more that about a hundred yards without a turn. Some interesting country. Stretches of forest, stretches of Great Ocean Road type scenery, complete with surfers getting dressed on the road, some horrible towns and industrial areas. 

Because we were running so late we decided to stop for a comfort break. We chose, purely by chance, the town of Bermeo. Nice port area. Though the rest was pretty scrappy. We had a coffee at the base of the white building with a blue awning at the right.

We had been crossing the Camino de Santiago on our first drive, and today we crossed the coast route as well. We had wanted to do the camino and when this became a bit difficult, this trip was an alternate for us. So having James as our GPS is appropriate (St James is Santiago). So James' way will have to do.

He did OK for a picnic spot.

This is the hermitage of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. I think Gaztelugatxe means place with huge black slugs. They were everywhere and they were huge. I saw this place in an Age piece by chance and thought it would be a nice addition to a northern itinerary. As it turned out the road was closed and danger signs posted so this was going to be as close as we got. Whilst lunching with this view, we noticed that there were people on the island, and someone drove up and proceeded to bypass all the warning signs in typical spanish style. Well we had come a long way, so we joined them. What a beautiful place.

After a long walk up, we were quite hot. Marjan rang the hermitage bell three times for luck. I figured I am already blessed both here and at home, so asking for more luck seemed a bit pushy. We got one of the locals to take a happy snap

And headed back. We were very grateful for the shade of the hazelnut trees. It was warm work.

After a litre of water we started driving again. James was in the good books and he sensed it. The roads were much better, and we even drove through some blue gum plantations. The web of motor ways around Bilbao were hairy and we had a couple of jaw clenching moments, but were soon driving out of the Pais Vasco. 

The change of scenery when entering Castilla Leon was almost immediate. Gone were the rolling green hills, replaced by drier, higher escarpments. This view is from the petrol station we stopped at. We could of course have picked up some chorizo, morcilla, queso or any other delicacy. We could also have had a long cold beer, on tap, and some tapas. Does anybody else do petrol station bars? Marjan resigned herself to an ice-cream.

The scenery just kept getting more dramatic, with more escarpments, until we entered the Valle De Manzanedo. The Rio Ebro shone in the sun among the yellowing leaves of poplars and other yellow leaved trees. We then climbed one of the escarpments and were out into a high plain. The Ebro has carved a nice canyon through this soft rock and Orbaneja Del Castillo sits half way up the canyon. 

We managed to get to our hotel through a network of steep narrow streets. Google map it and you will see what I mean. At one stage I was doing 2kmh with Marjan checking one wing mirror and I the other. Mere centimetres to spare. I think we are the only guests in the town. The guest house we are staying at is awesome and we have the lounge to ourselves. Nice view from the bedroom

You cannot see it but there are vultures hovering about in the canyon. As the only guests in the town we had the local bar to ourselves. The woman tended bar, took our food orders, cooked and waited tables. All this whilst watching an execrebale TV game show in which losing contestants have the floor drop out from under them. One of the locals came in and was asked what he wanted for dinner. He replied that it was too early for that as he wasn't French or English or some strange foreigner. All this when he knew I spoke spanish and was sitting there having a post-prandial coffee. A typical grumpy old spanish bastard. My future!

An experience, not to be missed.

Excuse the mistakes. The editor has gone to sleep. Apparently Real Betis holds no interest for her.

I could live here

I could learn to love San Sebastián. It has a calmer, more liveable feel than Barcelona. Early in the morning in Barcelona we would encounter pick pockets hoping for a good start to the day, various people coming home from a big night, including one quite striking six foot something transvestite in stilettos and a mini. 

In San Sebastián on the other hand you find people fixing the ravages of the winds from last night, or exercising. They are a sporty lot: they are walking, jogging, cycling, at the gym, surfing, walking their dogs on the beach, swimming, playing tennis or racquetball, participating in an elderly group cardio stroll, all seen in the space of an hour's stroll along the La Concha promenade.

The day started overcast but after a hearty breakfast ( how could it be otherwise when the buffet included chorizo, salchichon, jamon, tortilla, churros among the fare) we headed out anyway. 

We walked to Monte Igeldo at the western end of SS. Marjan' knee was not up to the climb and the funicular was closed for the day so we just checked out the surf and sculpture.

A good walk, with lovely views of the city and how it hugs it's bays.

By the time we got back, it was warmer and I joined some older locals in a swim. Cool, but not as cold as Venus Bay in early December. After a quick shower to wash the salt off we did some more aimless strolling. Cathedrals, shops, old quarter, markets just wandering and soaking the place up. Some random sights caught my eye.

We are now having a bit of a lie down whilst the town is shut down for siesta, belying the locals belief about their Englishness. Yes they are different from other parts of Spain ; the architecture is more subdued, the place is so much greener, the pace is calmer and more polite; but the English last night stood out like .......hmm ........I can only think up rude analogies. To top it off they still close up shop at 2 and open back up at 5. So we are taking advantage of that. We will be back out there soon. We are planning a bar hop tonight instead of dinner. Apparently this is the thing to do. A txokoli and one tapa per bar in the old quarter. To give this context...txokoli is fairly low alcohol,and the old quarter has over 500 bars in a square kilometer. So we should be ok to walk around whilst we eat our fill of pintxos. I won't rely on James to find the hotel so we should be good.

Back on the road early tomorrow , hoping to find a place I saw a single photo of in the Age a while ago, that just caught my imagination. I'll share if James gets us there.

James deserves a kick in the backside for that

James is our GPS. He has a British accent but is Spanish in temperament . 

We set off early in the morning drizzle hoping to avoid the traffic on the mountain roads. That paid off and we got to out of the windy bits fairly early. There is a town, and tunnel called Gavin up here. Visibility was poor but the countryside was very picturesque. Every second hillside in Spain has a dun coloured tower or church.

At various stage James had us showing as driving through fields, over cliffs and in rivers (all very fast flowing after the rain). We got very annoyed when he asked us to take the second exit at a roundabout which ended up in a paddock. Patience was getting very thin. Anyway we got back on track heading for Sos Del Rey Catolico. Another hillside town. This one is famous for being very well preserved, and for being the birthplace of Fernando I. He is famous for being king of Aragon, marrying Isabela of Castilla, driving out the moors from Spain and launching Columbus. He probably did other stuff too.

James asked us to turn off a reasonable road and we followed. Whilst I had asked to see Sos, James had decided that we needed to see some of the Cinco Villas. A collection of five towns in the area of historical interest. Unfortunately we did not really have time for this and the road James chose for us was a category 7 road. I know they do not have category 7 roads, but when they do this one, with €500M it should almost qualify. I don't think there was more that ten metres in a row without a pothole.

Yes we drove by some 11th century churches and some lovely looking hilltop villages, yes we managed to almost run over a flock of quail, but we wanted to go to Sos. Well, we got there finally and were in such a state that we switched James off and stuffed him in a backpack whilst we had a buffet breakfast at the parador. Calmed by food we wandered the old town. It was still raining so not totally perfect however the church was excellent. We were shown around by an old guy who obviously loved the place and would get a bit impatient if I did not immediately translate his words of wisdom to Marjan. We could not take photos but it was quite interesting. Particularly the old bits ...circa 950. Sos is mentioned from the 850's and was walled early in the 900's. It was at the front between Catholicism and Islam, hence it's hilltop which dominates all the area around it.

We decided to get going early and beat the rush hour traffic in San Sebastián. James was reasonably mollified and behaved himself. However we kept checking his recommendations against Google Maps. And when Marjan saw how short the drive was from the motorway to Sos, she suggested we give him a kick in the b£#.

The countryside as we started into the Basque Country was spectacular. The motorway headed into this awesome gorge and from there it was green hills and tunnels all the way. We got a bit cocky and James led us in ever decreasing circles till we found our hotel.

A couple of hours of walking in San Senbastian was vey pleasant. We strolled along the la concha promenade in the vizcaya gale, we got a map from a hole in the wall tourist map machine, we climbed Monte Urgull for a lovely view East and West. We wandered the old town among the Manchester United fans here for a game. We even had time for a beer and pintxos (albeit average) in La Plaza La Constitucion.

Headed back to the hotel and dropped down into the bar beneath our hotel where we had some txakoli and more pintxos. This time the pintxos were excellent and the txakoli an interesting accompaniment. By the way, we had enough for a light dinner with the pintxos and txakoli for €12.50. Perhaps that was to make up for the loud Man U. supporters. Nonetheless, take that Barcelona!

Now we are back in our room for some soccer and grandchild skypeing.

Random thoughts of an insomniac

How did we manage travel before? Before mobiles, line, viber, email, Internet, Skype.....I think I have it all covered. Last time in this part of the world I would get a half dozen coins, find a public phone and make my bookings whilst blocking one ear from the road traffic. Not sure if it is better or worse....or just different.

I am not really an insomniac , I have just woken half an hour before the alarm....as I do, and do not want to wake Marjan.

We went out for dinner last night to the place recommended by Manuel, our host. No, he is not from Barcelona. He is from Broto, the village down the valley, and married a local girl. They still think he is foreign with his lowland ways. The place was not open at seven, so we came back. It was very quite and Manuel said  that occupancy closely matched weather predictions. It was going to be quiet for a few days and improve with the weather leading into the weekend.

Went back to the restaurant at 8 and still closed. A bit disappointing as it is Michelin rated. So we went to another recommendation. This time a mum and dad operation. Well dad brought out the menus and wine, mum brough out the soup, a son brought out the mains, mum again for dessert and her sister took our payment. We could not bring ourselves to eat the veal, a local specialty, as we had made friends with some of them. So pork for Marjan, and a local trout for me. And yes Liz we upped the alcohol. The €15 menu del dia included a bottle rather than a glass of wine.

We are planning on adjusting our eating on environmental grounds. We feel that when we fly back to Oz the perturbations in the earth's orbit caused by the shifting position of so much mass could tip global warming into a dangerous phase. Still I might be talking through my hat and we'll just keep enjoying the food.

Spain has always had cafeterias, panaderias, carnicerías, cervecerías and the like. We are now seeing hamburguéserias and sandwicherias. And a talk show host in full flight on the travails of a celebrity said ' era bueno tener ese feedback'. If you do it in a spanish accent it is a scream. Especially so because as I recall Spaniards don't do feedback.

Finally it is nice being out of the major city. We seem to be among the few non-castellano speakers around here. Whereas in Barcelona we were among thousands of other tourists, here most of the tourists are spanish.

I hear Marjan stirring. So we will start up and head off on the road again. 

Talk again from San Sebastián. Looking forward to a Skype date with the grandchild.

The rain in Spain

A restful night at a terrific guest house with a lovely room with views.  In oz you'd pay a heap. We paid $55 a night. We woke to the sound of cow bells and rain. Looked out of our window and our golden mountain had changed.

The rain in Spain might fall mostly on the plain but in Aragon it falls as snow. The guy at our breakfast place said that at this time of year, his favourite, the early mist and rain tends to burn off to sunny afternoons. So rather than go up the mountain to the national park we decided to take the Polo off-road. San Nicolás de Burajuelo called and we came running. Apparently there has been a bridge here for a very long time and it's used by pilgrims crossing from France for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.

We decided that as it was raining, well only a light drizzle, we would forgo the hike to France and merely do the hour trek up the river. Some great colours and we shared the lowlands with some local cows. 

 After a while it got too narrow for us so we turned back.

We were fairly wet by the time we got back into the car. We turned the heater up to full and headed to the national park proper. We decided we were too wet to keep walking so we had a cocoa at the bar/restaurant at the main car park. The warmth hit the spot. In fact it was so good we followed it up with a picnic lunch in the car. There were no undercover spots fors us to lay out the sumptuous spread of bread, chorizo and cheese. 

By the way if you really want you don't have to leave the car park. The views are magnificent. It ls in a narrow valley with 700m rises either side. This is one of the best parks we have visited and the pictures do not do it justice. I suspect that depending on the light and time of year it would have many different faces. We got the rainy/misty face of autumn.

Rain or no rain we decided to walk. We had some wet weather gear. So walking boots, rain coats and ponchos were added to my t-shirt and to Marjan's ten layers of clothes, hat and gloves and off we set.

Obviously very different to Australia, obviously very beautiful but also very wet. We had actually thought about doing one of the two longish walks when we planned this. The most challenging, would have seen us climb to the top of those hills and follow the valley along the ridge. However, with Marjan's knee still recovering and the snow along the ridge, we decided not to pursue that option. The second option was to keep on this track for about three hours to the end of the valley. An hour in, with the rain getting heavier and our wet weather gear starting to reach its limits we decided to head back after the next waterfall. On the way there we met some more friendly locals.

There was a whole line of them. It was only by the last one that I managed to disentangle the camera from the sodden rain poncho. Finally the waterfall was reached and we turned back.

We were getting wetter by the minute, but there was still plenty to see. At one point we were mesmerized by the leaves falling from the trees around us, at another we stood transfixed as small birds criss-crossed the path in front of us. But the rain just kept getting heavier and our clothes wetter.

Finally made it back to the car started the motor and turned up the heat. We had to sit there a while for the steam to stop fogging the windows. With a little sadness we headed back to Torla. On the way down we met the cows again all across the road. When they sensed the car behind them they quite simply and of their own volition made a single file along the edge of the road to let us pass. Astonishing.

A reviving coffee and muffin, followed by a hot shower has now set us up nicely for a big dinner. Tomorrow we leave this place, hopefully without dropping off the side of one of the many precipices,and hopefully to return again for a longer visit.

Travelling with Marjan sure is fun, even though she does think we are going to die.