It seems a long time ago now that this journey started, I guess all I met there are all a little bit older and wiser now. The story stayed on my computer and apart from printing out books and disc's for these friends I met on the way it was little read. Now I feel I should let more of you read of this mind blowing trip I made and here you can see for yourself the photos I took on the way.
The year was 2004
Yes you can do it if I can. The last Fisterra part was a lovely walk but getting across to Muxìa! Phew, I found this very confusing and the return to Santiago even more so. Going against the arrows can leave you with up to four choices of track, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’d take the wrong one. Many times I found walking on the road was a surer way of arriving before it got dark. I loved Galicia and the weather was very kind to me. It’s supposed to rain three hundred out of the three hundred and sixty five days of any year they tell me.
There is a list of some of the friends I made on the way so you can refer to them, see Oct1 Friends Made.
As I said at the beginning you can do it, now come on a pilgrimage with me and meet them as I did walking along the Spanish Vía del Plata.
Light a Candle
Peregrino Mike 2004
28/April/04
I kissed Maisie goodbye and I went through customs. Later I text a message to her and got one back. I now boarded and the plane taxied to take off at quarter to four pm Perth time. At twenty past four I’m flying over Perth and have a good view, I’m in an aisle seat and only the window seat is taken. At 5 p.m. the serving trolley bashed my right knee, not a good start I think. I arrive in Singapore at nine fifteen p.m. Australian time. The plane takes off again at eleven thirty. Now I have a cramped seat in middle number, F.42. It’s now I find out my plane is flying via Paris! I eventually fell asleep.
29/04/04
Arrive
MadridAwake at eight am and take my pills at ten am Perth time. Seems to be eight hours time difference backwards in France so I reset my watch from ten thirty to four thirty a.m. while I’m still over Germany. After a very short stop in Paris I eventually arrive at Madrid airport at nine fifteen a.m. Here I find the bus stop and take the airport bus to Colon and walk to the Plaza Mayor. I tried the old hostel but it was full up so just in front and on the right I took a room in the ‘La Perla Asturiana’ at thirty-three Euro a night. Having cleaned up I walked to my old peregrina friend Antonia’s and spent the rest of the day chatting till my head spun from all the Spanish. I left the presents with her thinking I would be able to distribute them on my return and then kissed her goodbye and she said she might be able to come with me to Cordoba on my return from France. Thinking that it would be nice and that this would mean there would be somewhere for me to stay that first night, I walked back to the hostel and got to bed at twelve p.m.
After a couple of days I take a train to France
Arrive
France02/05/04
The train arrived at five fifty in the morning at a cold and bleak station in France. Marcia collected me at seven am. And we drove off in a very sick Volvo to the old hotel ‘Le Lion d’ Or’.
Time flies and its soon Friday
14/05/04
I was up early, as Marcia had bought the ticket as far as Irun I had to somehow get a ticket to Mirandade Ebro and then to Cordoba. This I managed as the ticket office spoke English and it cost me another five Euro for coffee and two ‘bocadillos’ sandwiches. France is not cheap I think.
Maisie knows where I am by me text-ing on my phone but I decide I must try to phone Antonia again.
She was in Alicante! She said she’d left a message on my email. If she did I never got it, it was probably voice mail and I don’t know how to use that.
Had a hard night sleeping on the train.
‘My Vía del Plata’
15/05/04
Saturday
No1 Photos --1-4
I Arrive at Cordoba
Walk to Almodova del Río
Twenty to nine, the train was arriving late. I disembarked and had a coffee and a croissant in the station cafe. I then walked to the Mezquita Cathedral and was not allowed to enter it because I was carrying a rucksack.
Note: because it was just a short time after the Madrid bombings! I couldn’t leave it anywhere so I took some photos in the gardens, and went back up to the station and looked for the road to Almadova del Río, thereby starting my Vía del Plata
It’s very hard walking on the hard shoulder of this very busy road and it was some while before I got out of the suburbs. At one point I was warned by the driver of a bakers van to skirt a village in case I got mugged! I eventually arrived exhausted at the road junction on the edge of the town I had been looking for.
I started on the small road into town, then changed my mind as it looked too far away. I turned round and went back to main road again to a hostel I had seen there, but they were full and said I had to walk another nine km which I just couldn’t do.
After a beer someone said he knew of a place in the village and phoned ahead for me.
“Only five hundred meters away on the road you had been going down” he promised.
This five hundred meters turned out to be at least two kms and at the very top of the hill near the castle. I was absolutely dead on arrival and took a room on the second floor. After a shower, I ate in the nearest restaurant round the corner, it was very posh and cost a bomb.
16/05/04
Sunday
Photos ---4-8
To the
Hostel Melchora about ten km
I found a cheap cafe in town near the castle. I left my hostel about ten a.m. I walked back to first hostel at the junction there I turned left along the main road again, my feet were very painful and I had to rest at top of the hill for half an hour, having only done one kilometre in the right direction. It’s seven more to the next village I thought. Just a little further on I passed a road coming in from the left. It came straight from the part of the town I had stopped in! It would have saved me a kilometre at least. I carried on and arrived somehow at the next village and chatted to a young man and his young daughter. I gave her a clip-on koala bear for luck and he suggested I use the hostel by the road and I got a room for fifteen Euro.
It was here I received a text message from Maisie with some great news from my son John and my daughter-in-law Silvia, I was to be a grandfather at Christmas again, 27th December! I came down from my room and smelt fish cooking, but decided to try to get some dried fruit first as I thought I needed the sugar. After crossing the railway line and walking up and down the town I found the food shops were all shut. I came back and noted that the walk had made another blister! Things were not going to well. I took a short rest then went down and had a coffee and cognac to celebrate my snippet of news and cheer myself up. Then the barman told me I’d have to wait till nine to eat in the restaurant. As I’m too late for a meal I had a ‘tapa’ of cheese to tide me over till I could eat later and when I did that turned out to be very good.
17/05/04
Monday
Hostel Melchora
I seem to remember trying to rest mostly on this day, but I later went to the village again and found the post office and sent my heavy tape measure back home to lighten my load then brought some sweet stuff to eat, which made me feel a lot better.
18/05/04
Tuesday
Photos ---8-28
To
SevilleUp early and on the road by six. It was still dark. I soon felt awful, the feet were terrible, and I decide I must thumb a lift but it was no good, no one would stop. I was getting desperate, the road was so hot and I could find no tracks to help, the only camp site I passed was well off the road four km and it said nothing about there being any water. I could not risk the four there and four back. Eventually I came to a junction and a garage and after asking several people, I got a lift to ‘Lora del Río’ about ten kilometres. Here I bought some fruit in a supermarket and had a coffee con cognac. I crossed the railway and got a ticket at the station to Seville hoping my feet would get better once I got off the hot tarmac. The train ticket cost just two and a half Euro, no wonder people thought I was mad walking it.
Arriving in Seville I phoned the nuns that were supposed to run an albergue and was told it was expensive but went to see the place anyway. I Walked across town and at last found the door and was shown in by what looked like a cleaning lady. A nun appeared behind a barred window and informed me it was thirty-four Euro a night for each of the two nights or forty-five Euro for one night! Rather stunned I said I thought I could find a cheaper place in a hotel in town and was informed a hotel would cost me one hundred Euro a night. I left. Asking in the street outside I found a street with several hostels, the first one was full but they told me to try round the corner at the hostel Generalife. The street was either Cabaloso or San Roque? On entering I was attended to by two very pretty young girls and I immediately jumped to the conclusion I had found the local whorehouse, especially when I was told,
“We have a nice room with balcony on the first floor, with double bed and with the bathroom just along the hall. It will cost thirty Euro.
I insisted I wanted a single bedroom.
“That will cost the same I’m afraid and is in the attic, fourth floor.”
I took the first floor double and wondered if I would get a bedroom call later!
I was very wrong, it was a nice place but it would have been quieter on the forth floor. After showering I went out and found a nice cafe not far away on the right called ‘Zafra’
and had a nice meal and the waitress took my photo. Looking at my town map I noted the cathedral was not so far away, so I decided to walk there as the map also showed me it would save me time in the morning getting out of the city. I’d do the cathedral today I decided. This I did, and took many photos of the Cathedral and its Giralda. I got to bed tired but rather amazed that I could have done all that after being in such a state earlier in the day. It showed me that a lot depends on your state of mind as well as the state of your feet.
19/05/04
Wednesday
Photos ---28-32
Map 1
To
Guillena
I turned across the lovely bridge as the sky was turning pink .As usual leaving a city entails tarmac roads and pavements and a lot of wondering if you have the right road. Having crossed a roundabout and a bridge I took a slip path to the left and found a farm full of horses and there I asked and was given some confusing directions and eventually found a few arrows after having to double back once. Then my map seemed ok.
Later, hot and tired with my feet hurting like hellfire, I took a short cut across a ploughed field. (Even though you can see its shorter, a rutted field is much harder to walk on - I’d learnt another lesson). I met the dirt road as it went into a river ford. I was worried now that the muddy water might infect the open blisters on my feet. There were two people sitting in a tiny bit of shade over the other side so I called across
“How do you get across.”
(Hoping they’d say there was a bridge. Some hope.
“Swim” they called back.
“How deep is it I answered.”
They pointed to just above the knees.
Ok. I had on my pants that the legs zipped off so I put down my bag got out my flip flops and took off my boots and removed my trouser legs and rolled them up as far as possible. I kept on one pair of socks hoping they might keep some mud out of my blisters. I looked up, a van was coming towards the river then stopped and drove into a field, so no last minute reprieve. I picked up my pack tied my boots on it and carefully waded in keeping to the middle in case there were branches jammed on the edges. My logic being cars would keep the centre clear. The water was murky brown and slippery, especially either side but out I came out the other side and walked up to the peregrinos. I had seen the two women earlier, They were my first encounter with fellow peregrinos. Funny I can’t remember seeing them afterwards but I remember they were Swiss or German. We chatted while I cleaned and disinfected my feet and ate a banana then they left as I put on my boots. (Could have been Brigitte and Dutch Yvonne). A while later I decided to rest under some olive trees. It was one o’clock and Nicholas went by but never stopped, we were to meet again later and get to know each other well. It didn’t get any cooler and I set out again and struggled into town and tried to get in an albergue. It was a sports facility but I couldn’t get the key so in the end I found the hostel (Frances) in town instead.
Here I met Nicholas again and discovered he was a South African. I had decided to rest my feet for another day, post on the tent to cut down weight and try to get my blisters a little better. (Hurting feet seem to sap all your energy as well as being dam right painful.)
20/05/04
Thursday
GuillenaIt was hard to rest. I felt I wanted to get going but as it was raining and cloudy and hot and sticky at the same time I was glad I resisted. Maisie sent and I returned a lot of messages and that evening I met Reinhard, a German historian. We swapped stories and he gave me some information on sections of the track that I would have to travel at a much later date. He had done a lot of the top half, though not all. We sat outside on the terrace facing the road. Suddenly a tall attractive young woman approached and asked if we were peregrinos and we invited her to our table and discussed the route together. Her name was Yvonne, also from Germany and she spoke English and Spanish. Yvonne had also walked much of the top sections and would not go all the way to Santiago. Also I would later meet Brigitte a Swiss lady and the Dutch Yvonne who I believe sat at another table. All had walked the Camino Frances. Of all the peregrinos I was to meet only Nicholas had not walked the Camino Francés before attempting the Via del Plata.
21/05/04
Friday
Photos ---32-40
Map 2
To
Castilblanco de los ArroyosI set off at 6.30, it was still dark and luckily I got some good directions from the old barman as how to leave the town. I crossed the river bridge, turned left through an industrial area then left again (nearly missed that one) and set out through the olive groves. Maisie text me as dawn broke on a cloudy day.
Still on my own I passed a gate and thought that I was now in cattle country (Fincas de Ganado),
and saw a few being herded on the other side of the fence. I heard my first Hu-Poo, the bird with same call, it has an orange crest and black and white barred wings. Rabbits were everywhere and almost unafraid of me as I walked along the path through the scrub. The last bit I walked with Reinhard and I arrived at ‘Castilblanco de los Arroyos’. He took the first hotel we came to, I thought it expensive and so went on and found the albergue on the far side of town, this was in an old school type building and I had to get the key from the petrol station. The young Yvonne later joined me and we ate a nice meal in the café opposite. Yvonne was to tell me much later that it was the best meal she had on the whole trip a yummy
‘Ensalada rica de casa’ followed by shrimps in garlic oil and lots of stewed beef and of course washed down with a good ‘vino tinto de la casa.’
I took the adjoining room to hers and other than a man coming to fix up a fire extinguisher on the wall we passed a pleasant and quite evening. There was the most spectacular sunset that evening, seen from the flat roof outside our rooms as we chatted and collected our dry washing.
22/05/04
Saturday
Photos ---40-46
Map 3
To
Almaden de la PlataI walked with the two Germans but I soon got left behind, it was sixteen kms of asphalt, then about the same through the park. While on the road I first saw Jacques and Bernadette the French couple that I would travel with later. I met Yvonne and Reinhard again
and we had lunch at the g
ateway to the park,
then the lovely walk with all the wild flowers that fascinated Yvonne and me. After a while Reinhard gradually pulled ahead and we lost him. Yvonne collected a large bunch of flowers each of them different, some twenty odd. I
stuck some flowers in my hat as had become the custom for me since the Camino last year. We came to a lovely stream and decided to cool down and paddle.
Just as I entered the water an adder swam across and entered a clump of grass. I bravely (I’m scared stiff of the things!) calmed Yvonne and went to the other side and bathed my feet and we swapped stories.
As we put our boots on to leave we also saw a Yabby (a fresh water crayfish.) The ‘camino’ got very hard, as we now had to climb over a mountain, by climbing up a mud road that was terribly steep. Eventually we reached the top and its wonderful view and sat for a while drinking our water by a wooden viewing platform and decided the village must be just down there behind a hillock.
Just down there, proved an under statement as we eventually got about half way, it went up again for bit to a shrine. We went to look and Yvonne placed some flowers on it then we set off again down a steep gully that had obviously been part of the original Vía de Plata. Going down can be very hard on blistered feet as I now found out. Yvonne who had never even suffered one laughed and jogged a head of me saying
“Come on the village must be just round the corner.”
At last with me hardly able to place one foot in front of the other we came to the first signs of a village. A lot of pigs in a fenced run, a sty and a donkey, this slowed Yvonne and I caught up and now we came into a narrow street. Yvonne reached the bottom and turned the corner as an old lady came out of the house opposite. The old lady looked up at the young woman then caught sight of me. Quickly crossed herself and hurried back indoors. I saw her action and realised how bad I must look. I must have let my pain show on my face I thought, as I shuffled on forward down the hill. I’m not dead yet I decided, gritting my teeth and trying to catch up with Yvonne. The albergue was on the other side of town as usual and full of teenagers from the village having great fun! We took two bunks in the corner and then, I staggered out (Yvonne strolled) to find shop and a bar. Getting in conversation with a man and the local simpleton, we were taken to the bar come restaurant and here met Reinhard again. He had taken a hostel this time.
23/05/04
Sunday
Map 4
Photos ---46-53
To
El Real de la Jara
We met Jacques and Bernadette as we left the village, it was a mountain walk through Holm oaks, with lots of pig farms and dogs. Poor Bernadette did get nipped by one of the farm dogs, some others did too I think. Yvonne went ahead once, then held back again, as she was not to keen on passing the next farm all alone with its nasty dogs.
We did split up later on and I eventually came into the village of El Real de la Jara with Nicholas I think.
The albergue
had no sign up and it had to be found by asking and here we found Yvonne. Us men managed to get our washing done by the Dueña for a few Euro. Freed from the washing, we went into the village, here we found a bar for the old folk and ate excellent Iberian pork, produced by the owner and returned to the same bar later for a nice meal of ‘tapas.’
24/05/04
Monday
Map 5
Photos ---53-58
To
MonasterioThe mist was rising as we walked past the old castle at the rear of the hill beyond the village. Nicholas called to me and I looked back, it was breaking dawn and the castle looked so very beautiful and impressive breaking through the morning mist.
My feet were at their best yet. I’d done twenty km by 12.20 pm. Yvonne saw me arrive and called me over to a hotel and we got the key to the Red Cross building that served as an albergue. We took a nice downstairs room with a shower and WC adjoining. More peregrinos arrived after we had settled in. We found the problem was everyone had to come through our room to use the only wc and bathroom in the building. Here I remember we met Brigitte my Swiss friend again as she flitted past to the shower.
I went to find the post office to post some more bits on but it was closed. I then looked round the old town
and took a few photos of the church, bumping into Yvonne again.
Reinhard had booked into the more salubrious hotel and had made friends with Philippe and Carol a French couple. We had learnt it was Reinhard’s birthday and we met in the bar for a drink to celebrate. Yvonne gave him some flowers and a card and I gave him a koala for his birthday. This was the first time I had met Philippe, he is a very tall man his voice has a very strong French accent. To me he sounded like someone from ‘Allo Allo’.
The likeable Philippe soon had us doubled up laughing at his stories. He generously invited us to his apartment in Paris and a party later on in July I think. Then when they were leaving to eat in the restaurant he acted shocked, stood up pointing at me saying
“I hav sooddenly rea-lizzed my Carool hav juoost given him err phone numberr!
Unfortunately the lovely Carol had to leave for Paris the next day. Sadly I was unable to keep that date.
25/05/04
Tuesday
Map 6
Photos ---58-59
To
Fuente de CantosOff by seven am, but I didn’t feel too good.
Philippe caught me up and passed me as I became real sick and only just made it to the monastery at Fuente de Cantos. Reinhard met me at the entrance. The others were kindly waiting for me inside the monastery building in the bar. Philippe had realised something was wrong and told them. I booked in and they wished me well and saw that I was taken to my room (a very plush room and the whole building was beautifully converted to accommodate conferences and the like, maybe a religious sect I don’t know) anyway the group left for Calzadilla de los Barros.
I really don’t remember much else although I remember it stormed through the night. I realised Philippe, my French count, was still around and it gave me great comfort, but as he was such a fast walker I thought he would leave later as it was not much further to Calzadilla de los Barros to be with the others. After all we had only just met.
26/05/04
Wednesday
Map 7
Photos ---59-76
To
ZafraI had slept well and in the morning awoke refreshed and feeling much better. I dumped my little cooker and fuel and some bits in my room to lighten my load about a kilo. My respect for Philippe was immense seeing him still there and even more so when he shared the same type of breakfast (Fried breadcrumbs and fried garlic cloves). Philippe spoke no Spanish but had arranged to get us taken to Calzadilla de los Barros in the proprietor’s car. He, the proprietor, insisted we look round the church and watch a video about some paintings before we left, which neither of us could understand!
Taken in the car over the same rough tracks of this small section that we should have walked, took a while. But we were soon dropped in the centre of the village of Calzadilla de los Barros (The albergue the others had stopped in was out of town a few Ks, I was told so we had gained quite a bit on them. We walked fast with me trying to match Philippe and soon came to a stream that was in flood from the night’s storm. We made our way alongside the flooded track up to the stream itself but it was too wide to jump and too deep to wade, with a bank of slippery
clay. Philippe went back a bit while I tried to judge the depth. Without warning my feet shot from under me and I fell splat in the sticky mud and started to slide into the water. Luckily I still had my walking poles and I managed to stop my slide. We were both laughing and Philippe suddenly said
“There’s only one way,”
He proceeded to strip, off came his, boots, trousers, pants and shirt until he stood there stark naked! Then with clothes, boots and rucksack held high, he waded in. I was doubled up laughing but realised he had the right idea and so now took off my boots and trousers, but being more modest I left on my pants, waistcoat and shirt. I Hung my boots on my rucksack, and uncoupled it from round my waist, just in case I should fall over. Then held it as high as I could, and followed him in. I had noticed his backside had stayed dry and I now realised I had made a bad decision about leaving my pants on. Of course he was taller than I was! In mid stream I remembered my mobile phone was in my waistcoat pocket and saw that was starting to get wet, I now have to pull up the dripping waistcoat bottoms and tuck them in my mouth, well that stopped me laughing. All the time cold muddy water was lapping round my nether regions, freezing them and soaking my pants. Slippery clay and obstacles underfoot made it quite difficult to stay upright and the fast current in the middle didn’t help much either. I was very glad of my to two walking poles. On reaching the far bank and dry ground, Philippe tossed me his camera saying we should swap cameras as he didn’t want a picture of him on the Internet, s
o we did. I still think the one I took was a better picture than the one he took of me! In the next village we had a coffee in the lovely plaza mayor and asked if they had seen the other peregrinos. We found out they were about an hour ahead. However we were unable to catch them before we arrived at the posh albergue at Zafra. Here we shared a nice room with Reinhard just two sets of bunk beds and a big shower room and toilet, while the girls had a separate room across the passageway. We cleaned our muddy boots and got our washing done for us. We all ate in the albergue and I had a very disappointing pre-packed and microwave heated paella.
We took some photos with the staff girls who were very nice then went to see the town and were amazed how lovely it was.
We looked in at the parador but Reinhard said it wasn’t posh enough. I took photos and wrote post cards as we did a round of the bars.
Later I became tired and left them watching the world cup football in a bar. As I came up to the albergue I saw Yvonne, (who had left a little earlier) in the phone box outside. Inside the albergue the staff were very excited saying
they had told Philippe we were to be back by ten o’clock and if he and the other guests were not in by ten pm the door would be locked. (As Philippe could not speak a word of Spanish but often said ‘si’ it’s quite possible they had.) Starting to panic I text Reinhard, (as I had not sent one previously I hoped he would get the message) then I went outside to call Yvonne but she had disappeared! I hunted up and down the street and came back again and was panicking as I had definitely seen her in the phone box. After all you hear stories of girls disappearing. Anyway I didn’t like the idea of her sleeping outside. As time went by the grabbing a girl from a badly lit phone box started to look a real possibility. The men had returned and the staff was about to lock the door when in strolls an unperturbed Yvonne. The phone had not worked she informed us so she had found the Internet cafe round the corner. I had looked in there but somehow I had not seen her! Anyway all turned out well, and we had to laugh. We said goodnight to the staff and were promptly locked in.
27/05/04
Thursday
Map 8
Photos ---76-83
Emita de San Isidoro five km before Villafranca de los Barros
Very easy day through lots of vineyards, sunny but nice and not too far, I travelled fairly well, and we arrived at the ‘Emita’ and stopped in the albergue, this one is like a ‘parador’ but we expect a fairly hard day tomorrow. A Ground floor apartment with garden for us three men and another for the females. Great dinner but that evening we sat eating and drinking and the manager managed to upset us by only giving only half measures of the house wine! As there was no shop here we ordered sandwiches for the morning, one for everyone, they too were expensive for what they contained.
28/05/04
Friday
Map 9
Photos ---83-88
To Torremegia
The pilgrims way
The miles click by so endlessly
as I walk along my God and me.
The sun is rising to the east
Its golden rays are like a feast.
It shines upon us pilgrims five
It feels so good to be alive.
A very hard section over straight Roman roads through the vineyards, with no shade and no villages for coffee, (we had passed through Villlafranca too early for any cafe’s to be open.) Very tired we came up to the town of Torremegia. The ‘camino’ now went all the way round the outside before coming back into the town on the far side, Brigitte and I were very glad to arrive. We booked in and after a short rest, Philippe Nicholas and I went to buy fruit and buns for the
morning. Having done so we found a bar and had a few drinks that were very cheap. The albergue was very nice but it was the same manager who served us at the dinner table as last night. Mark the English lad joined Reinhard, Phillippe and me at the table and this manager wanted to charge us extra for the wine when it had been included in the bill the day before. When challenged he promptly took it off the bill, re wrote it and charged treble for the ice creams Mark and Philippe had eaten to make the bill the same!!!!!
The cyclists packed into the room very late that night and disturbed us too.
29/05/04
Saturday
Map 10
No2 Photos --88-00961
To
Merida
We were up late and left about eight am. It was nice at first then the track became straight and hot. I felt a bit better after lunch sitting in the shade by a gateway to a villa, (a change over spot, that is we left as other’s arrived all looking for a shade spot.) We eventually walked over the Roman Bridge into Mérida and stopped for a drink in the plaza Mayor. We discovered the albergue was three kms the other side of town. The girls Yvonne and Brigitte left to find it, but us men now searched for a cheap hostel in the town, as Philippe needed to catch a bus in the morning to Seville to catch his plane to Paris. We found one but it was rough! Here we left our bags then went to the station to get a ticket for Philippe. On returning he stopped and disappeared into another hostel and then reappeared and called us over and we looked in too. It was a much better place but how could we go there now we argued? A decision was made and on returning to the one where we had left our bags I translated Philippe’s garbled French for the poor woman and so asked (or should that be lied,)
“Our friend has to leave tonight and our plans have changed can we have our money and bags back?”
Our luck was in and we grabbed our money and ran. On booking in the new place we found the girls were already booked in there! The albergue had been closed and they had to return to town, (six kms for nothing!) Smiles all round as we realised we had somehow found the same Hostel, even sheared adjoining rooms facing the garden. We showered did our washing and hit the town to celebrate the leaving of our friend Philippe.
We found a secluded restaurant full of ancient bullfight photos. Here we chose to eat on the rather crowded terrace under the big grapevine. It was a lovely spot and
we settled down to sort out what to eat. This meant Yvonne and myself trying to translate the menu into English and German and describe what it just might be. Philippe after listing to us struggling said in his terrible accented English
“I vill ask those women vhat is good yes” and promptly pushed back his chair
and armed with the menu went to a table of three attractive Spanish ladies. They could speak no French and were soon giggling hysterically and laughing and pointing at what they had on their plates and the menu held by Philippe. He returned and said
“Thees one and zat one is good no.”
The poor waiter who had been watching the whole charade mouth agape, thinking no doubt that he would lose his job or at least the three other customers, was called over. We managed to order a number of ‘tapas’, plates of squid, and other dishes. Having consumed a large quantity of red wine and the food and finished with cognac or orujo, we paid and went to leave. But Philippe was not ready to leave yet. He was flying high by now and turned and crossed to the Spanish ladies table again and stood trying to converse with them once more. Yvonne and I started to try to translate for them and him and before to long we were all pulling up chairs and joined them at their table. Yvonne and I had a terrible job trying to keep up with the translating but we all had a wonderful evening. The Spanish women insisting I should guard the young German girl (Yvonne) from Philippe and other males. (I somehow must have given the impression I was a gentleman!)
“You are to guard this brave young thing as if you are her father” the Spanish girl ordered and went on to exclaim “Fancy this poor young thing travelling all alone”!
Young Yvonne was quite old enough and capable of looking after herself, I thought with a smile! While saying
“Si seguro, si, como su papa.”
Eventually we all left and went our own ways, the three Spaniards giggling together as they went down the road to look for their families and probably their husbands. It must have been late, well after twelve p.m.
