Historias de la Gran Patranha

Fell asleep; too comfy, room too nice and too quiet, so now I'll fill in the bits of the rest of the day. 

The Médulas were defo a landscape hit and they also allowed us to get lost through some fun little twisty roads. One of the surprising qualities of the landscape was that there was a lot of greenery and wet muddy grounds all over the place thanks to the blessed shadow of the contorted chestnut trees that populated the area. It seems that in the autumn they close the park for two weeks or so so that the locals can gather the "castañas" for the products they prepare: from "cocido con castañas" to all kinds of sweets. 

Anyway, once we were out of the place and rolling on the motorway, the landscape started morphing slowly into wonderful planes of ochre and yellow patches littered with fractal brick villages (of the one-bell-tower or two-bell-towers kind depending on the wealth of the medieval Lord - which would include the presence of a Castilian castle - or the wealth of their trade - cereal, wine...). Another wonderful feature was the wind turbines, great wind farms scattered along the sometimes monotonous landscape, adorning the far horizons of pure blue and  foggy grey. Even the road saw a wealth of lorries carrying the humungous blades for the turbiens and other bits and pieces to build yet more of the modern windmills. No wonder Don Quixote thought these lands were populated by giants.

So, we got to Burgos, big town, small river with wide green banks, bridges, broad shaded and elegant promenades, old style bookshops, antiquarian cafés, multicolored squares and a white and beautifully imposing cathedral to which al roads lead. Its musical portico is one to behold, as are many of the other details carved on its different sides. 

We walked around and upwards (again!) to the castle, to see the sunset and enjoy a bit of music. The touristy "chu-chu" train followed us so it could have been an idea to hop on, but Phil mentioned the words "rather dead than seen in...", so sod his foot sores, little pilgrim, you'll be flip-flopping through the town on your own two pretty legs (the photo of the beblistered chap complaining on the portico sums up the idea quite well). 

Our hotel, La Puebla, located in the street of the same name, was a little jewel. For 74€ we had a stylish place in the centre of the town; well equipped, huge bed where you can easily lose your partner, very quite despite the works outside, lovely decor and toilet (individual light on top of the shower to give your mornings that lovely feeling). Breakfast wasn't anything special but staff were very helpful and despite not having a record of our reservation - I'm sure I called! - they were able to find us a place. Parking was full at hotel so we left the car two minutes away in the Plaza Mayor parking (at 14€ per night, it was fair enough). 

Another highlight of the visit was the food. Despite the slow and moody service (maybe we weren't posh enough?), the food served at the "urban taberna" La Favorita was wonderful: tempura of artichokes, most lovely veggies, skewered fillet steak for Phil and "callos" with fried egg for me (yummy!). Somehow we managed to get lost on the way back and to get soaked in the hot and sudden storm that fell all through the night. 

Alevia was like travelling back in time. The evening amusement for the villagers seemed to be to check out the new stallion "in the hood" in the main square (plot of grass with big tree in the middle), and then went for a chato de vino in the only bar in the village. The horse was still there in the morning; they had found a snug strip of grass for him next to the old church... on the best spot with a view. He has now been immortalised in one of the photos our our trip, see below, taken by Phil as I was not on photographing mood.

... and this was the view behind him...

So, when we woke up, the skies had cleared and we could ascertain that we were certainly pretty high up (as per the photo above). The view still magnificent, the bill fine (85€ for our room and a magnificent yummy brekkie was pretty fair), the car still there, waiting for us, and the day lovely...

Thus, we set off towards Galicia. Curvy road on the way down from Alevia and curvy road all through the mountains - we have GPS photo to prove the crazy orography of the area.

Phil loved the drive, I endured it (not feeling too well). Through amazing crevasses, cut by rivulets and wild plants, some of walls surrounding us were sweating water and moss. The rock was grey, white, reddish at times, and stood up in the worst climber-defying of shapes.

The view from the mirador at Poo de Cabrales - chosen because I thought it would be fine to take Phil to a place called "poo"... childish but ever so endearing... - was rather incredible. The vertical panettone of the Naranco de Bulnes, highest mountain of the peaks and one of the highest in Spain, appeared surrounded by other mountains and valleys, and the walls around it were spotted with caves and specks of snow... lovely!

From there, we were supposed to go to the Cuevas del Agua, to see the Cuevona, where you can drive through a natural tunnel, but somehow the GPS missed the trick and directed us straight away to the motorway - maybe it was trying to tell us something.

My mum had told us to get to Coruna by 3 so that we could go out on the boat with my uncle. Only that our planned time of arrival was 6, so we declined the invitation. Somehow, though, the kilometres seemed to fly past with the lovely view of the sea on one side and the mountains on the other, with the damn heat falling on us and my resilient wish to keep the roof of the car put in place as shelter... ah, the heat, the heat, too much to bear - and yes, I would have also complained had it been raining.

So, somehow, we drove so quickly and my uncle was so late that we did get to Coruna for four ish and he was waiting for us on the boat, but at that stage I was feeling so ill that as soon as I stepped on the pontoons at the port, all the world seemed to just be moving too much, so we just touched base on Santa Cruz, in the lovely new house specially kitted for us by my mum, while my sister, friend, and uncle, boated along.

As soon as I got home, I went straight to bed (it didn't move, yay!), Phil got to wash the car, drive my mum around (she adored the little car), then he swam with my parents in the swimming pool (a scene worthy of Moby Dick) and seemingly, my uncle and co. on the boat got to the middle of nowhere in the ocean and had to be rescued as they run out of petrol... so am glad we didn't join them.