Stairway to ….?

Spanish Adventure – The Final Part – Taxis, Planes and Airport Lounges

The final part of our adventure was the trip home.  We arose having not really had enough sleep to be picked up by another Galician taxi driver whose idea of approaching toll barriers reminded me of Thelma and Louise!  Just like back home some tolls operate a system of tagging so that you don’t have to scramble about for change simply drive over a sensor and the barrier opens and you proceed.  A system that works, which was just as well, as this particular taxi driver was testing it to it’s limit, his preference was not to slow down and drive at the barrier with great speed daring it not to open in time – thankful each one did.  When we return to the region, for I am sure we will at some time, we will hire a car and keep a sharp eye out for taxi drivers charging towards us!

The wait at La Coruna airport wasn’t too long and we dozed a bit and had a bite to eat – a tuna and beef tomato sandwich which used a thin tortia instead of bread.  As the plane rose into the air and the coast disappeared from view we said goodbye to Galicia knowing the next land we would be the southern coast of Britain.  We caught up on some more sleep during the flight, happy to be heading home, although we had very much enjoyed our Spanish Adventure. 

When we arrived at Heathrow we whizzed through immigration, then had to collect our bag as this time they hadn’t been checked right through, finding it was quick and easy and a relief!  The next part was less simple.  Heathrow isn’t very well signposted especially if you are arriving on a European flight and then having to make your way to domestic check in.  Well that isn’t exactly true; Heathrow isn’t signposted at all for that eventuality!  But eventually after a lot of walking, going down ramps, climbing up steps we arrived.  The queues were long, so while Hubby waited in one I made my way to the BA desk to check that as on our downward flight we were actually booked on one of their flights – we could find no departures boards so weren’t even sure if this time around they had a flight that at least corresponded with the one we had.  Now for those of you who don’t know I am 5’7″ – not overly tall but far from short, yet I had to stand on my tiptoes to see over the BA desk, I presume it is designed that way as some kind of safety measure for the staff but I know lots of people who would have been seriously struggling at this point.  The woman behind the desk was extremely helpful and quickly found our reservation, and made sure it was showing on the passenger list for the flight, flight number in hand I returned to the check-in queue.  Soon we had our boarding pass, bag was dispatched and as the gate was busy we walked a bit further a field and found somewhere quiet to sit and have a drink.

Time passed as pleasantly as it can in a busy airport but the departure screens close to us weren’t working so we decided it was time to move to our gate.  Gate 5 was even busier than it had been earlier and we soon discovered why, of the 8 BA flights that were showing two were later and as yet had no details, but the other 6 were all delayed, ours by 20 minutes.  We found a couple of spare seats and sat down glancing up at the screen again to see that the flight was now 50 minutes delayed, got out my book, Hubby went off to find some coffee.  Around us people were playing cards, reading, sleeping and eating, eventually the Newcastle and Birmingham flights were called and boarded, our delay slipped to 1 hour 15 minutes, then 1 hour 20 minutes.  The time for departure was now getting close to the following Glasgow flight that still had no information showing.  Then suddenly an hour and ten minutes after our flight should have taken off a new gate number went up.  We were at 5 and had to get to 78, a flurry of people started to collect their belongings and begin the hike.  I presume they like us also thought the flight was going to start boarding as there had not be another change in the delay, how wrong we were.  At the new gate we sat as the various service vehicles drew up and then left our plane and time ticked by.  Eventually 2 hours after we should have been in the air we boarded the plane, having just watched the next flight to Glasgow take off on time before us!  It was another 35 minutes before we were in the air.

As we flew over the south of England signs of the recent flooding was still evident far below us, from those heights you get a better perspective of how large an area was affected.  Again BA’s food was good, this time a very nice bit of cold poached salmon with new potatoes and salad.  We made the wonderful northerly approach to Glasgow getting views of the Firth of Clyde, and the mountains in the distance, and as the wheels touched down it felt like we were home.  The airport was quiet devoid of staff and it took a while for someone to realise that luggage needed to be unloaded from a late plane and to send it round the carousel, but soon enough we were in the car this time with all our bags and on the M8 on the 20 minute journey back home.  We had been travelling, or maybe to be more precise, not travelling, for over 13 hours and we had only been in Spain!

Spanish Adventure – Part 5 – The Wedding

The guests had arrived:

The Pipers - Galacian style - were ready:

One of the Grooms nephews was waiting to ring the bell to announce the Bride was about to arrive and get everyone into the chapel:

The bridesmaid was waiting to scatter her rose petals, getting very hot along with the rest of us:

And it was past 6pm and still we waited.

I knew that both the Groom and Bride were here and finally decided to go and find out what the delay was.

It transpired that the Bride had been unable to leave the table plans and had spent an hour sorting them out, so was running behind schedule, but no one knew what the delay now was about.  So up the steep narrow stone steps I climbed and knocked on the door.  As I entered I saw the Bride struggling to lace up the back of her Maid of Honours dress, and as she wasn’t doing it tight enough and the dress was having to be held up instead of it holding itself up.  If this wedding was going to take place before midnight it was time to take over.  So firstly making sure the Bride had all her finishing touches on I dismissed her to start making her way down the stairs, and began to lace up the Maid of Honours dress from the beginning, it wasn’t a quick task, but when it was finished at least it wasn’t going to fall down mid way through the ceremony!  Finally everyone was ready, the bell was rung and the guests entered the cool of the chapel.

Then once they were all in and I had tried my first bit of public Spanish asking them all to please stand, the Groom entered with his mother as is the Spanish custom:

Followed shortly after by the Bridesmaid who could now scatter her petals and the Bride with her father; the Maid of Honour and Best Men along with other ‘special’ guests had entered the chapel just before after the rest of the congregation was in place.

If the Bride hadn’t gone around telling everyone, no one would have known that the dress she was now wearing had been hanging up in a shop 24 hours before!

The service itself went smoothly, mostly in English but with a degree of Spanish and a smattering of French thrown in too. 

Aunt E a member of St Mark’s congregation led the prayers in English and Spanish a touch which was greatly appreciated by the Grooms family who understood very little English.  Aunt J another member of St Mark’s read in English the same reading that the Grooms mother read in Spanish and E yet another member of St Mark’s read a shortened version of the famous Corinthians reading, which was then read in Spanish by one of the Grooms cousins in Spanish.  The couple kissed:

And we moved on to the Eucharist.  I was surprised by the number of the Grooms family from this highly Roman Catholic area who happily received, although there was a bit of confusion over whether children were to receive a blessing or the bread.  Then once more the bell was rung and everyone rushed outside so they could shower the happy couple with bird seed:

I was relieved, it was over, and I hadn’t totally messed up the bits in Spanish and French.  Everyone seemed happy and even those who hadn’t fully understood what was going commented on how much they had enjoyed it all.  We moved into the courtyard for drinks and appetizers. Smoked Salmon Spoons – done with cream cheese and a little caviar; Tuna Empanada - wonderfully fragrant; Shots of Melon with Ham Shavings – cool and refreshing these were my favourites; Seafood Croquettes – small and delicious; King Prawns Orly – which were pounced upon: and air dried ‘Iberico’ Ham carved in front of us:

The Bride gathered together all those females who were unmarried and then went up onto the balcony and threw her bouquet:

Then with 9pm having come and gone it was time to make our way into the Banqueting Hall for the dinner:

J, yet another member of St Mark’s who was present had made a cake, well two cakes this one and a full sized version of the one shown on the table here:

The menu was sublime Steamed Norway Lobsters – which I know as Langoustines; Grilled Turbot – which was served with potatoes and vegetables cooked with the juices; Lemon Sherbet; Sirloin Medallions in Red Wine Sauce; and Raspberry Mousse with Vanilla ice Cream on a Chocolate Shell.  The Raspberry Mousse is the traditonal Spanish Wedding cake:

It was near midnight by the time the speeches came around, but as it is not the Spanish custom to have speeches at all they were very brief and then coffee and liqueurs were served before we moved downstairs for the rest of the party.

The wedding had been a wonderful mixture of the two traditions and cultures, which actually have much in common with this area of Spain having proud Celtic roots.

At just past 4am we finally got back to our hotel room and fell into bed!

Spanish Adventure – Part 4 – The Day Of The Wedding

As we stepped out of the hotel it was cooler and rather than blue sky that had been ever present up till now there was a mist.  We paused on our way to the cafe we had chosen the night before for breakfast to buy some local bread for the Eucharist later, still hot from the oven it smelt wonderful and wetted our appetite for breakfast.  By the time we had eaten delicious crème analgise croissants and drunk the strong Spanish coffee the sun was once more shinning in the brilliant blue sky.  We wandered over to the square and sat under the shade of the full size weeping fig trees watching the world go by.  Trees in Melide have this peculiar habit; leaves don’t flutter down and land softly on you or the ground, no.  The tree silently takes aim and then throws a leaf at you making you think some child somewhere near has thrown a chewed up bit of paper at you.  It is not a painful experience but a strange behaviour for a tree! 

The time drifted by pleasantly sitting on that bench in the shade watching the tractors race along the main street, Galician tractors don’t appear to be limited to 15 mph, either that or they are driven by taxi drivers!  We soon found we could easily detect those who weren’t local by the way they stopped at the crossing points, we had previously learned ourselves that if you waited for cars to stop you would be waiting forever, the set procedure was to just walk onto the crossing and trust the car all had brakes in full working order!  All too soon it was time to head back out to the wedding venue.

The bride had thankfully agreed not to help set up and was resting after spending half the night putting together orders of service with hastily bought ribbon as the whole booklet thing had completely defeated the printers – I made a mental note that if I was ever to agree to a wedding outside the country again I would insist on doing the orders of service myself back home.  The groom however was still coming as he would be needed for translation and was taking some items up to the castle for the evenings festivities.  The brides dress hadn’t arrived but they had managed to get one the night before and two local seamstresses had worked till 10pm to ensure it fitted just right.Arriving at the castle those who were ushering and were not there the day before were given their instructions, firstly in English by me then in Spanish by the groom, then in French by one of the Best Men and finally in Italian by the wife of one of the ushers who only spoke Italian! 

Chairs were arranged and re-arranged 80 people were attending and the chapel is small so we finally decided that around 20 would just have to stand.  In the brides absence I was charged with organising the seating of the family, she had said she wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it, talk about pressure, I didn’t know who didn’t speak to who, who would feel offended if they ended up sitting beside Uncle Frank, I didn’t even know from the list of first names I was given who was related to who!  With the chapel finally sorted and everything else done which could be done the seating plan for the meal was left, I hoped not to be revisited.  It is the Spanish custom that you allocate tables but then let people choose themselves where to sit at the table, a good plan in my book; arranging seating plans are one the most stressful time for a couple getting married.  We headed back to our hotel to grab something to eat and get freshened up and changed for the evening. 

Spanish Adventure – Part 3 – Missing Things

We awoke to a lovely cool room still dark from the metal shutter, first job of the day collect our case from reception and unpack, or so we thought!  Our case as you might have already guessed wasn’t at reception and what we thought would be a quick phone call to the Spanish call centre, which was dealing with lost luggage, to find out if it was on it’s way proved to be less than quick this time around.

The case which we had been told was at the airport only had not been delivered because they didn’t know were the hotel was, was now apparently maybe not even at the airport at all, and the jobs worth on the other end of the phone couldn’t or wouldn’t try and find out when it might actually get to us as he wasn’t authorised to do that!!!  So we suggested that he get someone who did know to phone us back.  We waited, and waited and waited, 30 minutes later we phoned them back again, this time it was a woman who just kept on repeating that according to the system it should be at the airport but she couldn’t say for certain when our case would arrive as she had no control over when dispatch might deliver it.  She couldn’t even say if it would be that day or not!  So we got dressed in our still damp clothes (I had rinsed them through before climbing into bed, just in case) and walked down towards the main road and the taxi rank we had spied the day before.  On the way we popped into a local greengrocer and bought apples, pears and satsumas for breakfast, the satsuma in particular was delicious.  We had decided the only way to make sure we got our case before we got back home was to go and track it down ourselves.

Of course this meant another hair raising trip in a Galician taxi, one who thought that as we were British and going to the airport we were in a rush for a flight so speed and risks were increased!  As we clung on to the bumper of the car in front through one of the small villages we approached a dip in the road with a bend the other side and a bridge overhead.  The car in front of us brake lights lit up – to give this taxi driver some credit I do think he might have taken his foot of the accelerator, he certainly didn’t brake until after the car front stopped and we could see a tree making its way under the bridge in the other direction!  There was much squealing of brakes and swerving but somehow we managed to miss both the tree and the car in front, the taxi driver was looking totally unruffled and turned to speak in Spanish making some sign to us which translated roughly as – what a stupid time for someone to be moving a tree!  Ahhh so it was the trees fault we had nearly been killed that was alright then.  Soon we, and the tree, were moving again.  At this point I would like to write that the taxi driver now slowed down a bit, but I can’t, he continued to play chicken with on coming vehicles for the rest of the 50+ mile trip, no wonder he had so much religious tat on his dashboard - I closed my eyes.

Now you might think seeing our recent experience the next thing we did was somewhat short-sighted, but you would be wrong.  On arriving at the airport we struck up a bargain with the taxi driver that he would wait for us and take us back, we had no idea how long it might take, but by now had realised that one Galician taxi driver is much like another and we might as well give the custom to a driver who would need to get back to Melide anyway, and were not convinced that the taxi drivers at the airport would even know were it was!  He parked up and left us to go inside refusing even an interim payment.  Our trip was rewarded when some 30 minutes later I was led out to the dispatch depot to view a mountain of lost luggage and spied our case.  After explaining that I would take it now rather than wait until this evening for it to maybe be delivered and signing a bit of paper I was allowed to trundle it out of the depot.

The trip back was uneventful, and on arriving back in front of the hotel we were prepared for the worse, having got more euros out of a ATM at the airport.
‘How much?’ we asked.
The taxi driver explained it was a long trip; he had waited, preparing the way for the final crunch.  We nodded.
’60 euros.’
He got 80, but it was a fight to make him keep it.
Back in our room we unpacked the morning was nearly over and soon it would be time for the wedding rehearsal, but not before we discovered something else was missing – US!

We emerged from our room, feeling a whole lot better with fresh clothes and headed for a well deserved drink at the bar.  A new member of staff came running towards us, and this one spoke English and turned out to be the owner of the hotel.
‘You are with the wedding party, yes?’
‘Yes.’ we replied.
‘We thought you were missing, everyone has been looking for you they thought you must have missed your flight.’  Then, rather accusingly ‘You are in the wrong room!’
We were in the room they put us in.
‘You need to change rooms, you need a better room, that one is no good.’
There was nothing wrong with the room, it was on the ground floor and was obviously their disabled facilities, but it was cool, bright, clean and spacious.
‘I give you a new key for a better room; Roberto (the groom) said you were to have the best room.’
So we took the key and moved our stuff up a floor into the new room, slightly smaller and this time with a bath as well as a shower and a balcony.  On returning back to the bar, we agreed with the owner it was a better room and she complained about her son putting us in the wrong room.
‘It wasn’t your son, it was a young woman.’ we told her.
‘He was in charge, he knew about the wedding she didn’t, son should have made sure you were in the right room.’

We sat and enjoyed another glass of the local wine as I waited for the bride and groom to arrive for the trip to the rehearsal, surely all missing things were now located and found.  But when Karen the bride arrived we discovered it was far from the case.  Her dress was still stuck in customs were it had been for the past week and she didn’t know if they would release it in time for the big day tomorrow, the orders of service had totally confused the Spanish printers and were being printed as we spoke, if only I had known.  For the rehearsal all we had was a soft copy on a lap top and one hard copy which was incomplete, what with the language barriers too this was going to be interesting!

After a short journey we arrived at Pazo Vilar de Ferreiros, the ancient castle and prison were the wedding was to take place, and what a beautiful place it is in a glorious setting.

The chapel is small not as elaborate as the church we had seen the previous day but charming never the less -

Although there is a rather scary nun statue inside!

The rehearsal went off without a hitch, although everything had to be explained in English then translated into Spanish, French and sometimes Italian so that everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing.  I could tell the next day was going to be challenging to say the least!

On the way back to the hotel Roberto recommended a restaurant to me for our evening meal it was famous in the region for its octopus, something Paul had been wanting to try.  He had spent the afternoon sitting at a pavement table reading and sampling the local beer, of which he totally approved, and absorbing the local atmosphere.  So Roberto and Karen headed off to try and find a new wedding dress at very short notice and we headed off to do our own shopping.  We had seen a leather shop the previous day which had been shut, but now with the afternoon heat starting to wane we knew it would be open again, also we need to buy something and Paul thought he knew just the shop that would provide us with what we were looking for.

The wedding, as is the Spanish custom, would take place at 6pm, with the legal paperwork being signed at 11am which only the bride, groom and Spanish witnesses attended.  Our original plan had been to make a trip on the Saturday to Santiago de Compostela, however during the rehearsal I had discovered that Karen and Roberto had plans to go and set up particular things in the chapel and banqueting hall after in the afternoon and had put down my foot, telling them they were to do no such thing but rather to get some rest and I would do that for them, roping in at this point an unwitting Husband who of course was more than happy to help once I told him.  So with the plans for our own mini pilgrimage cancelled we now had to go shopping for something, and that something was a Christmas tree ornament.  Everywhere we go we try and buy something that will hang on the Christmas tree, it doesn’t always work as sometimes there isn’t anything that is suitable, it is rarely an actual Christmas tree ornament, but rather something that can be used as such.  We have pewter trolls from Norway, velvet and embroidery Celtic saints from  Lindisfarne, a silver charm bracelet from Paris with Notre Dame on it to name a few, and now from Galicia a thurible, a key ring sized one.  In the leather shop Paul got a very nice belt which was hand fitted for him and we also bought a leather mask, of the type they are used for plays put on outside.

That evening Paul dined on what he described as the best octopus ever, not rubbery in the slightest.  I had grilled langoustines and then we both shared a salad and the most wonderful gambos – prawns cooked in garlic and chilli, the local bread did a fine job of sopping up the juices and the local wine, served in bowls, washed it all down wonderfully.  It was the kind of meal I love having when on holiday, in a restaurant were the locals eat, nothing fancy just good local fare.

Spanish Adventure – Part 2 – Exploring Melide

After checking the hotel menu and deciding we would give it a try later we set out to explore.  Melide is a charming place, and while it is on the pilgrim route – we saw lots of people with their backpacks and hiking sticks – it has not succumbed to the tourist trade, something for which we were grateful.  At the centre of the town is one of the stone pilgrim crosses, several villages have them in the area, one side is Christ crucified on the other Christ reigning, this particular one had been moved at some time and sat outside a simple small church which we never saw unlocked, something unusual for the region.

 As we explored the cool side streets we discovered a gem of a church, Parroquia San Pedro – the Parish church of San Pedro – this is one that the pilgrims make for and was open.

Inside it was wonderfully cool and the colours breathtaking much like many churches in provincial parts of the continents the riches it contains contrasted deeply with the relative wealth of those who live in and around it, although there was an obvious lack of money in trying to upkeep the building.

Try as we might we could not find out whose relics were now hidden beneath a shroud of gold lamme from the sensitive eyes of the 21century pilgrim, but I am supposing it was most likely an early pilgrim or even relics of San Pedro himself, but we might never know as even doing some delving using the internet has produced no information.

Back out into the quiet street, most of the shops were closed and it was only us and a handful of other visitors and pilgrims who walked about in the heat of the afternoon, as the locals sat in pavement cafes or stayed indoors. More a habit of a lifetime than due to the heat as it was only in the low 20’s.

Those who read my blog regularly will know of my love for old buildings especially ones which are heading towards ruins, Melide had them in abundance, house and shops just shut up and left, no vandals graffiti or burning them down just nature slowly reclaiming them. There was some although not a lot of new building going on to, mostly homes for the locals although they still use high cranes to move the slabs of concrete, which they now mostly build in, about.

Even the electricity sub stations had charm about them:

While these drying huts, unique to the region where a common sight especially once you were out the town.  They use them mainly to dry and store corn but also to dry other things.  Some were basic others were elaborately painted or had fine masonry on the two ends, and some were very grand indeed, although unfortunately I don’t have any pictures of them:

And if you didn’t have one of those, you just found an old pallet, and a spare bit of ground and laid your garlic out to dry in the sun!

Getting hungry we headed back down the narrow cool lanes to the hotel, for us it had been a long day and we hoped to be able to unpack and eat. The unpacking was going to have to wait until after dinner though as when we arrived back at the hotel our case still hadn’t so we had a drink in the bar while we waited for the restaurant to open and then at 7:45pm headed into it. As I said in my pervious post the hotel were not used to tourists and this meant a mad flurry – I use the term loosely as the Spanish do everything at a sedate pace – of activity as lights were switched on, staff were found to man the kitchens and eventually after some linguistic confusion a menu was found. Most of it we managed to understand and quickly decided that I would have the langoustines, Hubby the cold meats, followed by the paella and squid. Well that was the plan at least. The bread arrived, the local bread is full of air and similar to the Italian panni only three times as thick and six times as chewy, but unlike in Italy there was no oil to dunk it in so after the initial tasting it was left in it’s basket as we waited for another burst of activity from the hotel staff. Eventually someone arrived and with her limited English and our limited Spanish we soon discovered everything we wanted including second and third choices was off the menu. We could have tomato soup and a pork chop with potatoes! It was now 8:30pm and as hungry and tired as we were we had lost all faith in whether these would even turn up and neither of us really wanted them anyway, so we decided to head back out into the town and try our luck at one of the local cafes.

Looking along the now busy high street we choose a table in the shade at the blue tables to discover we had picked a pizza restaurant, not having the will to move and look again we stayed put and were rewarded with the most delicious bowl of local green olives and one of the regions wines. The wine was glorious best likened to a white rijoca and came from the southern most tip of Galica, Ribeira. It is made using grapes which are local just to the region and the type we were drinking is not exported at all, even from what we could gather to other regions of Spain. It is delicious and if you are even in the region a must to the at least try. The pizzas were good too, made using the local bread and with fresh vegetables and a local tangy blue cheese, the tiredness of the day was washed out from us and we relaxed in the pleasant evening sun. Finally we decided it was time to head back and were shocked at how cheap our evening meal had been, about a third of what we had been expecting!

We arrived back at the hotel to discover that our case had still not arrived, so a quick phone call was in order.
‘We are waiting on our case we were told it would be delivered this evening.’
‘Oh yes, we couldn’t track were the hotel was can you give us the address?’
The address was given.
‘Where is that?’
They were told.
It would appear that even the locals didn’t know of this town and certainly didn’t know of the hotel.
‘We won’t be able to get it to you tonight, but it will be there first thing in the morning between 7 and 8am.’
We weren’t pleased, we hadn’t travelled with any hand luggage – bad mistake won’t be doing that again – but we didn’t really have an awful lot of choice so climbed into bed slightly annoyed but totally charmed by Melide and Galica.

A Proper Car – And It Was A Peugeot!!!

Seeing this on the streets of Melide was a real treat.  If only Peugeot still made cars like this. 

Spanish Adventure – Part 1 – Our Arrival

The weekend of the Spanish wedding came upon us and for the last four days we have been travelling to, from and around Galicia in north western Spain.  And what an adventure it turned out to be, when agreeing to the plan I had no idea what would come to pass!

Up before the crack of dawn and off to a very busy Glasgow airport for the first surprise.  It was like crossing the road, look and look again, but it made no difference the flight we were booked on was not showing anywhere on the departure boards, however another airline was also flying to London Heathrow with the same departure time, so using some common sense we decided that must be it and made our way to check in.  After a lot of keyboard bashing it was discovered that yes we were on that flight and with a sigh of relief we dispatched our suitcase for the duration and went to get a cup of coffee.  As we waited for our flight we kept an eye on son’s flight from Kos which was due to arrive before we left, however soon his clicked over to being delayed while ours was on time, so any chance of seeing him, if only fleetingly at the airport was missed.  We were travelling BA and I must say they do a fine breakfast – I didn’t have the scrambled eggs or mushrooms.  Heathrow directs onward passengers well and soon we were in the international departures doing a bit of shopping and eating caviar and drinking champagne, well if such things are on offer it would be silly to refuse them, wouldn’t it!  Our flight to La Coruna was slightly delayed but not significantly, however the fact that we were relaxing in one part of Heathrow when the board changed from delayed to last call did mean a mad dash was needed!  But soon we were on board I was dozing as we flew over the edge of the Atlantic.  La Coruna itself is a very small provincial airport more akin to arriving at a bus station than an airport, immigration was a guy waving us through down a flight of stairs to almost fall over the reclaimed luggage belt, were we waited watching the variety of cases move round and be claimed, we waited some more as the other passengers started to drift away, a lone case went around and around, while we and some passengers from Edinburgh looked and realised our luggage wasn’t going to appear!  However the joy of a small airport meant that quickly someone had traced it as still being in Heathrow and booked it on a flight via Madrid to arrive later that evening – well that was easy we thought!

People comment about how the Italians drive, those people should take a taxi in Galicia!  There seems to be four rules, firstly the 120 speed limit is to be ignored – 150kpm along twisting hill roads is complusary.  Secondly anything further than 10 feet is too far away from the car in front.  Thirdly don’t brake if the car in front does, only do that if the car actually stops and then brake hard and swerve a little if necessary.  And finally, overtake on bends, blind summits and only when other vehicles are coming towards you at similar fast speeds!  It was a good job that the scenery was stunning enough to distract, the area has forests of eucalyptus trees and small fields of corn grown by individuals.  In places it was very reminiscent of Scotland, with rocky outcrops purple with heather.

We were staying in the small town/large village of Meilde in one of their two hotels.  Although they were used to pilgrims on their way Santiago de Compostela they were not used to tourists, and we soon discovered we were going to be greatly challenged by our lack of Spanish!  The hotel however was comfortable and beautifully cool with its marble floors and metal shutters – in this area air conditioning is unusual but the shutters are very effective at keeping the heat out while allowing the breeze in.  Without any luggage we were soon settled in and decided it was time to explore!