Spain (February 2025)

Spain trip report

Itinerary:

Leave BDL February 15th, 2025, arrive in Vigo February 16th, 2025.

Return Madrid March 1, 2025, arrive BDL March 1, 2025.

This trip was borne out of my need to do a scouting trip before moving to Spain. This is my first international move, though by no means my first move. In fact, I’ve moved 30 times and lived in six states. And I’ve been to several European countries, including Denmark, Ireland, England, Scotland, Wales, and Iceland.

Why am I moving to Spain? I would rather live in Ireland. Truly, that’s been my dream for decades. However, Ireland immigration is very tough, and Spain has a great digital nomad visa I can qualify for. Also, the one foreign language I have a decent level in is Spanish, thanks to growing up in Miami. So, off to Spain!

This was a somewhat unusual trip for me. I normally am 100% tourist, stuffing in all sorts of sites in my limited days. However, this trip has a Purpose. It was to find places I would be comfortable moving to.

That meant I did all sorts of research ahead of time. Then some more. Oh, and even more. Then I changed my mind, and did some more in other places. Rinse and repeat for several months.

• I was looking for places with cooler/wetter climates than your typical Spanish locations. I didn’t care about heat and beaches. I don’t want the blistering heat and desert climes – so I concentrated in the northwest, in Galicia. Those areas have climates closer to San Francisco (and Ireland, in absolutely no coincidence whatsoever). I wanted no or very little snow, lows no worse than 40F, highs no more than 85F. Greener is better!
• I looked for places with culture and history (which are so thick on the ground in Spain, you could sneeze and knock a dozen over).
• I wanted cities about 100,000 people, give or take. This would give me a large enough population to have good infrastructure for public transportation, museums, libraries, restaurants, etc., but not so large it seemed intimidating.
• My dream was to find an apartment in a neighborhood within walking distance to groceries, restaurants, etc. So I wouldn’t need a car.
• My thought was to avoid the more touristy places, like Costa del Sol or Alicante, as it would be more difficult to learn Spanish by immersion if everyone was ex-pat.
• Low cost of living – which rules out places like Barcelona and Madrid, even if they weren’t already too big.

With that in mind, I came up with the following itinerary:

• Fly into Vigo (via Madrid)
• Pick up rental car and stay 3 nights in Pontevedra (Hotel Restuarante Rúas)
  • Original plan: Drive to Porto, stay 3 nights
  • Updated plan: Drive to Salamanca, stay 3 nights (Hotel Ikonik Plaza Market)
• Drive to Cáceres, stay 3 nights (Hotel La Boheme)
• Drive to Ávila, stay 3 nights (Hotel Le Vintage)
• Drive to Madrid, fly out the next day. (B&B Madrid Aeropuerto)

So, I had a plan, I got my tickets, I made my reservations, and I was ready to go! I was flying solo, but that didn’t frighten me too much. I’d done solo trips to Ireland and England before. Sure, this would be a country that spoke another language, but I had a basic Spanish knowledge and a strong language app.

And I was off!

Saturday, February 15th:

I set out from home at 8am, as my flight was at noon. Yes, that’s right, four hours early. It takes an hour to drive to Hartford BDL airport, and for an international flight, three hours early is the standard time you need to arrive.

So, I’m in my car and ten minutes out I remember to grab my night-driving glasses which should have been in the car. But I didn’t see them. What?

I pulled over and looked under the seat, in the central console, everywhere. Damn! With regret, I headed back to the apartment and searched everywhere. But I couldn’t find them. Now, this isn’t a disaster, just annoying. I can drive with my normal glasses, but lights are more difficult to see as they blur with my normal ones.

I shrugged and got back in the car… and realized the night-driving glasses are EXACTLY where they are supposed to be, but I forgot there’s a ‘depression’ in the bottom of the chamber, so the case just filled it up and I thought it was empty. Ah, well, it’s all good. The irony is that I only needed them on the trip back after I returned. I never ended up driving at night on the trip!

So, back on the road, I headed not to the airport, but to the nearby train station. My friends were coming by train. They would drop me off at the airport and borrow the car for two weeks. That way, it would be easier for them to come check on my cats every few days. Then, when I got back into town, I could take the train home, and we’d deal with exchanging the car later. That was because they’d be out of town at a LARP event that day.

I got to the train like five minutes early. Perfect for me! I prefer being earlier rather than later. The train arrived, we got in, and Patrick took over driving so he could just drop me off at departures.

We found the right gate, and I took my bags, gave a few hugs, and marched in. I had already checked in online and had no checked luggage, so I went straight to security. Luckily for me, I was in and out in ten minutes, easy peasy.

Then, I had almost two hours to wait. However, that’s far better than running late and missing my flight because security took so long, so I grabbed a breakfast burrito (which was rather disappointing, but it was fuel), found a counter that had a seat and a plug for my laptop, and did some editing in my current Work-in-Progress, Veiled in Ancient Shadows. This is the fourth book in my time travel series, and due out next month, so I was doing the last bits of editing on it before sending it to my ARC readers.

When the time came, I headed toward my gate. They did ask for volunteers to check carry-ons, and I went up to do so, but when I explained that I had a connection in Madrid on a different ticket, they said I probably should hold onto my bag.

I went back to sit down, but a woman had taken the seat I was just in. So, I took someone else’s spot! He came back and gave me the same confused look I had just given the woman. He was cool about it and took another seat, and we shared a chuckle.

When we finally boarded the plane, the woman next to me was on the larger side, but so am I. We were a bit squished, but both tried to be cognizant of each other’s space. My knee hit the metal rib of the seatback pocket. That would have been fine for this short flight to our connection – Chicago – but the flight itself was delayed for an extra twenty minutes. We did see the fuel truck show up, and then we were on our way.

The flight to Chicago was uneventful. I held a secret resentment that we had to fly west when I wanted to go east, but that’s how the connection dice game ended up.

Chicago was very snow, and the plane was freezing cold inside. I did lose my bottle of water under the seat and couldn’t reach it, giving it up for lost.

Once landed, I had 1.5 hours to my connection. However, I also had to move from terminal L to terminal K, and booked it across the airport. For a while, I walked with a Texan woman going in the same direction who had been on my flight. She was headed home after visiting her daughter in Connecticut, who had just gotten a new dog.

I stopped for lunch at a Wolfgang Puck pizza place. The pizza was HUGE and way more than I could eat. I think I had two slices out of six (spicy meats) and had to toss the rest.

Then, I headed to my gate, K16. I sat at the crowded gate and kept seeing people being called up for a London flight. I was a little early, but it didn’t seem this flight would clear in time for mine, so I went to check the gate information again. Mine still said K16. Confused, I went up to the desk to ask, and everyone was presenting their passports. That’s when I heard someone saying that the flight to Madrid had been changed to K12. I turned around, and it was a gate attendant, so official information. Well, that would have been nice to know! I glanced above me. Yup, it still said Madrid. Evidently, it lied!

So, I walked down a few gates, and there was a long line of people there, also waiting to show their passports. We stood there for about fifteen minutes, and I chatted with several others who had gone through a similarly confusing process. One was a short, gray-haired woman my age visiting friends in Barcelona (she’d been many times). Another was Sam, a tall dark-haired American man who has lived in Madrid for three years and loved it.

Finally, we filtered through the very long line (it was even longer behind us) and I got on board. Next to me was a teen glued to her cell phone. Then, they took her somewhere else (First? No idea). A man across the aisle moved to her seat, but moved back after a while. Woohoo! Score! Empty seat next to me for a seven hour flight!

We got into the air and I watched Oppenheimer, then tried to sleep. That was a total fail, though I probably got some rest, at least. Dinner was chili, but I wasn’t very hungry. The chocolate dessert was yummy, though. I’ve learned that airlines often make the dessert the best part. Maybe as being the last thing to eat, it’s what stays in your memory.

I tried more sleep, and maybe even got some. When I woke up, we had about 1.5 hours left. I started to watch Conclave. Breakfast came – a meat, cheese and pickle baguette sandwich which was great. We arrived before I got to the end of Conclave, but I figured I’d be able to finish it on the trip back.

Sunday: February 16th:

So, now I arrived in Madrid! At the very end of a very long and empty terminal (it was like 6am). I had almost two hours for my connection, but had to go through customs and get to another terminal, check in (because it’s a different airline and I booked the tickets separately), and get to my gate. I didn’t want to run late, so I quick-stepped.

Getting through customs was relatively quick and easy. However, then I had to figure out how to get to my departing flight. It was on another ticket AND on another airline (Air Europa) so I had to manhandle my roller bag and my carryon out that terminal (and at one point, my bag stopped, and I tripped and fell on my face, yay), out to the street, get a bus to terminal 2. Then, I had to check in at the new airline, check my luggage in for this one (because I was tired of dragging it around at this point and the short flight should be safer).

Just as I was about to go through security again, my legs said STOP. DO NOT WALK MORE. “We will cramp and cramp even as you’re walking because you walked way too much after sitting still on the flight for seven hours.”

Painfully limping to a vending machine, I paid 2 Euros for a bottle of water and chugged half of it. That helped somewhat. Then I headed toward security where, of course, I had to chuck the rest of the water. But it had done it’s job and my cramps were better. Not gone, but better.

Security took about ten minutes, and then I had a very long walk to my gate, E80. Which, of course, was allll the way at the end of the terminal. And my calves were cramping again, of course. I stopped for some more water, and finally got to sit down to wait for the flight, about a half hour before it was due to leave. Whew! Evidently, even with an hour and forty minutes, I had cut it a bit close.

Well, my rest was very short-lived, as they asked us to stand in line to board. And we waited. And waited. And my legs were cramping again. And waited. I considered sitting down but there was nothing around for me to use to get up again and the floor was smooth/slippery. I didn’t want to risk the ignominy of being pulled to my feet by strangers.

Finally, after a full half hour (I timed it) they shuffled us on board. I almost tripped while stepping into the train as my calf decided to cramp again. The flight attendant was alarmed, but I waved her off, as it subsided pretty quickly.

The guy next to me on this flight was talking loudly on his phone about trading stocks (in Spanish, but I understood enough to know he was a self-important jerk). Finally, he shut the phone off when the flight attendant told him to three times.

I did get a bit more rest on this hour and a half flight. I also saw some gorgeous snow-topped mountains as we flew over.

I also delighted in the lush, green, misty Vigo as we came in to land. I saw a huge bridge, lots of charming houses dotting the green hills. It was magical.

Vigo is, of course, a much smaller airport than Madrid. That didn’t surprise me in the slightest. It was super-quick to disembark, claim my bag, and find the Hertz counter. The clerk was very friendly, and he got me settled in about ten minutes.

Once in my car, I took some time to try to match the GPS in my phone to the car screen. However, I finally realized the car had its own TomTom system, and my music/podcast hooked up, I was ready to roll.

Almost.

So, it had been a while since I drove stick shift, as the last time had been my Iceland trip in 2015. Ten years! Fair enough, I quickly remembered everything. But TomTom said I had to go THIS way to exit. TomTom LIED. That was blocked off. Finally managed to back out of that dead end and get to the right road.

I ended up driving over that lovely bridge I saw from the plane. I saw some gorgeous views on the 20 minute drive to Pontevedra, and considered stopping, but I wanted to get to my hotel and collapse. It had been a very long time since I rested at this point. Since there’s a six hour difference, and it was about noon, I’d been up over 24 hours.

Despite the excitement of being in a new country for the first time, and finally arrived for my vacation, I was fading. And I still had to find the hotel, park, and check in before I could rest. I might want to get food in my belly, too.

So, Pontevedra was lovely. As I came in off the bridge (yes, another. There are lots of them. Pontevedra literally means ‘old bridge’ and it’s on a river), I drove along the shore and then turned into the Centro Histórico (old town). This was a warren of cobblestone ‘streets’ with the obligatory charming old buildings. I put ‘streets’ in quotations because they weren’t what we’d consider streets in the US.

In many of the old towns in Spain, I’ve noticed, the center portion, the original towns, are kept that way. The streets are narrow, and while you can drive on them, they’re narrow, have pedestrians wandering around, and you’re certainly going slow.

In Pontevedra, it’s even more so, as they’ve deliberately pedestrianized their Centro Histórico. I loved it! But it made it challenging to find my hotel for the night which, of course, was in that area. TomTom took me up one hill, and my long time without driving stick-shift reared its ugly head. I kept trying to go up the hill in third. I THOUGHT it was in first, but it was actually third, and I didn’t understand why I kept stalling out, or why my clutch was heating up so much.

Finally, I figured it out, though the clutch alarm kept beeping at me rest and let it cool down. Not yet, my friend! Soon, but not yet.

Through several more mazed streets, I found the Hotel Restaurante Ruas. This was right off one of the many little plazas, and had an attached cafeteria and a half dozen restaurants nearby. It was only about two blocks from the edge of the Centro Histórico.

Maria Isabel was very kind and checked me in, then sent Miguel with me to show me where to park. To drive was difficult – up and down a bit on twisty road – but walking was more straightforward. Stairs, right?

The parking garage was underground, and at the end of a short alley. Miguel went inside and opened the door and directed me where to park, then shut the doors. The ramp down was very steep, and I was glad I’d gotten a small car.

Once back at the hotel, I went upstairs to my room (the stairs were very grand, marble with a carved balustrade!) and collapsed. But no, I needed to eat. I hadn’t eaten for about six hours, and if I napped, I wouldn’t be able to eat again until like 9pm, so I brushed my hair, washed my face, and descended that grand staircase.

The restaurant right behind the hotel was A Casa da Leña, which I noticed when returning from parking the car. There were outdoor tables and the sun was shining. It was about 60F out, and it felt like a perfect first meal in Spain.

I knew Galicia, the province I was in, was well known for their seafood, and I was eager to sample it. So, I ordered the scallops and some cider. I received some Maedoc cider (which was delicious), a tapas of some Iberian ham, cheese, and crusty bread, and scallops on the shell with the roe still on, in a garlic oil.

It was heavenly.

While I was slowly savoring my meal and writing notes in my notebook (to eventually write this trip report), the group in the next table left. The pigeons took this opportunity to attack the fries they’d left, until the waiter came and took their found bounty away.

The entire bill came to 19 Euros, and it was well worth it.

Sated, exhausted, and ready for a nap, I climbed the grand staircase again, but had problems opening the door. I put the key card in, but the handle wouldn’t open. I went back down stairs and the clerk helped. It worked instantly for him. I stared at the door as a betrayer, but went inside.

I changed and tried to sleep but my legs had returned to cramping. I took some magnesium supplements and chugged some water. That helped enough for me to get to sleep, but then they woke me again. Rinse and repeat. Finally, I slept, all the way to 9pm.

In Spain, lunch is around 2 or 3 (which is when I had my scallops) and dinner is 9-10. However, I wasn’t sure I was hungry yet. So I turned on the TV to see what interesting things Spanish television had to offer, and found the Simpsons in Spanish. Also Family Law, but Simpsons was easier for me to follow.

I caught up on my emails, checked my social media, and then realized I’d missed a meeting with one of my beta readers that normally happened at 3pm my time. But it was 9pm here, and I’d totally blanked. Luckily, she emailed me and figured I was still recovering from the flight, and she was absolutely correct.

I did go downstairs and had some soup at the same restuarant – a white bean stew – but I was still exhausted and quickly returned to the hotel room and passed out.

Monday, February 17th:

When my body decided it was finally time to get up, no sunlight was filtering through my closed shutters and curtains. I figured I was still on screwed up time, so I glanced at my clock. 7:45?? What the actual F? So I got up and opened the curtains. Yup, still dark out. Well, twilight. Then I remembered that I was on the western side of a time zone that was already more skewed than it probably should be, because Spain is 6 hours ahead of my normal eastern zone, and on being on the western edge in the winter meant the sun rose much later here.

I shrugged and took it as something to get used to, showered and dressed, then headed down to the cafe for my first desayuno (breakfast) in Spain.

The cafe was about half-full, all locals from their actions/look. Workers getting their cafe con leche before going into the job. I got a HUGE croissant with sugar on it and a cafe con leche. The server also gave me a serving of churros and a tall, thin little glass of orange juice. The churros weren’t sweet – they were fried, buttery, crispy, fresh, but no sugar added on top like the Monster Croissant.

There was a television on the ceiling in one corner, tuned to the morning news. I listened as I ate, wrote in my notebook, and enjoyed just being for a while. It was relaxing and easy.

I got back to my room, but I think I ate too much so I rested for a while, letting my stomach settle. Then, I went out for a walk. I wandered through the cobblestone Centro Histórico streets randomly, trusting my phone to get me back home when I needed it.

I passed a jewelry store, and saw some interesting pieces made of what looked like cut wood. The sign was in Galician, but I was able to make out that they were made of Galician wood trimmed in silver, using what’s left over from the foresty industry.

There was an indoor market that was only about a third full of vendors, with meats, fruit, and vegetables. Not many people shopping, either, so I imagine this is just a daily market with stalls, and there for the daily locals, as opposed to the ‘weekly market’ where lots of people wait and flock there. None of the vendors were selling ‘things’ like hats or t-shirts and such, just fresh food. I looked longingly at some pastries, but I was still fighting with my breakfast, so had to pass.

I passed a huge church across from the Convent of Santa Clara, called Iglesia de San Bartolomeu. Moss and algae or mildew made the stone green and black, colorful in the dim light (the sun wasn’t overhead so the narrow alleys were mostly in shadow this early in the morning).

I tried the doors to the church, but they were locked. I wanted to go in and feel the immense beauty and majesty, but another time would have to do.

After a few more twists and turns, I came out of Centro Histórico to a demarcation street. The change was obvious, but not jarring. More modern buildings, more cars, streets that looked normal to me. There were still people walking around doing groceries, walking their dog, jogging, going to work, just like in Centro Histórico. I ducked into a local grocery store to check out the goods, and everything looked doable. I found loads of delicious looking bread, meat, and fresh fruit. Sauces and paper goods and spices.

And because this is Galicia, who LOVES their seafood, tinned cans of all the seafood you can think of.

Once out of the grocery store, I wondered toward a big park, as per my map app, the Praza de Barcelos. It had a lovely fountain in the middle, kids playing in a playground, benches to do some people-watching (which I did), and folks enjoying the morning. People walking dogs, two older women sitting and catching up on the gossip on the next bench over. It was a bit chilly, and I was glad I had my jacket on, but for late February, it wasn’t too bad, maybe about 50F.

Surrounding the square were several apartment buildings and office buildings, each with retail stores of some sort at the base. Restaurants, cafes, grocery, phone stores, insurance, gaming store, perfume, salons, mail service, gift shops, etc. Just a normal, every day city spot.

I was definitely feeling at ease. This seemed like a safe, normal, place. A spot I could be comfortable in, even not knowing the language well.

Then, I decided I wanted to explore more squares around town. I searched online and found some that were highly rated, and my map app said the Praza de España was only a ten minute walk away.

Can I just say, I LOVE how walkable this city is?

So, I went down a ‘commercial’ street,Rúa de Benito Corbal, with more shops and lots of people. Now that it was closer to 11am, people were much more out and about. I re-entered the Centro Historical and found myself in the center. There’s a large pedestrianized area around theIgrexa da Virxe Peregrina (Church of the Pilgrim Virgin), an oddly scallop-shaped church.

I spotted (and heard) someone playing Galician bagpipes, and while I tried to get some film of him, he stopped when he noticed me filming, so I stopped trying. I did almost get run over by a delivery van who told me to get out of the way. While this area is pedestrianized, delivery vans and such are still permitted in, otherwise all the shops lining the streets would find it very difficult to get in supplies.

The Praza de España was larger than I had expected, but seemed to be one of the larger public spaces around, with both a long promenade with trees, and a huge cross at the other end. In addition, there was a lovely garden, the Xardíns de Vincenti, already green in February. 

A bunch of older schoolboys, middle teens, were playing soccer/football along the main part of the park. It was around 2pm by this point, so I imagined they must be on a lunch break. Then, the school bell rang and they disappeared into the huge building along the plaza, which I had thought was some municipal building. It was a high school, IES Valle-Inclán. Once they had left, the whole area was quieter, though there were still plenty of folks strolling around.

I was beginning to get hungry, so I searched for a nearby restaurant on my map app. I found a place called the Pulpería As Campás, but alas, it was closed, probably because it was Monday. I wandered the side streets, but a lot of places were closed still.

I noticed lots of bronze statues around. A man with a hat, a strong man carrying a scale, a woman carrying a basket. I also passed the Ruínas de San Domingos, the remains of a Gothic convent built in the 14^th century. Have I said I adore just finding historical buildings everywhere you turn? Yes. Yes, I do.

My stomach was still grumbling, so I settled on the touristy burger place right across from the ruins. It was called Nan Burger, and was fairly bleh. This is what I get for not sticking with traditional food and going for easy. I got a cheeseburger, and there wasn’t much burger in the fluffy, floury bun. At least it was cheap and it filled my stomach.

The family sitting behind me (outside on the patio) had two girls, both around 3 or 4 years old. One was saying Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!, so I guess that’s pretty universal. I saw lots of dogs being walked as I ate, and delivery drivers on bikes with big Globo boxes on their backs, so I figured that was the local equivalent to Uber Eats (though they have that, too).

Then I realized my phone was low and I hadn’t remembered to bring any of my portable chargers on my trip. I have like six of them! After the obligatory face palm, I searched out some electronics stores. Alas, it was like 3pm now, and very few things were open.

I poked my head into the nearest photography shop, but they had none. Next, I tried a phone store, but alas, they had no ‘cargador portadil.’ The clerk there suggested a chain electronics store called PC Box, but I’d have to drive to that. Still, I had enough for now, and it wasn’t far back to my hotel, only another ten-minute walk. I passed a few more small plazas, like Praza da Verdura, on my trip back. This plaza had several tables and benches and a little fountain with trees. It was actually right next to the hotel.

For anyone confused, Praza is the Galician word for Plaza. There’s a thing you know now.

I relaxed a bit in the room, charged my phone, and caught up on some stuff in my email. I didn’t want to overdo my legs again, after the Great Cramping Fiasco yesterday, so I lay down, watched some YouTube videos, including one from a new (to me) channel called ‘Days We Spend’, about an American couple who moved to Galicia.

Many hours later, all caught up on tax returns and emails and social media, I decided it was time to venture out of my hole for some dinner. It was only about 8pm, and most Spanish places serve 9 or 10, but I wandered down the road to a place called La Fugo de Blas. It was just a few tiny blocks away.

This is when I learned something else important – a lot of the restaurants listed in my map app, or on googlemaps, were gone, permanently closed, or something else. They were definitely not reliable. Wandering around, even on Googlemaps street view, was more reliable. That view showed restaurants and shops that weren’t actually listed if you looked at an aerial view. And wandering around on your own was the best method.

So, I ended up at a taperia called Taperia Galega that wasn’t even listed. I am very glad I did, because this place had the Pulpo de Galego I’d been hoping to try. I’d heard that it was a local traditional dish and that’s what I’d been searching for during lunch.

I ordered the Pulpo de Galego… and alas, they were out! However, I got calamari de ajillo instead, and it came with crusty brown bread to soak up the incredibly rich, spicy, savory broth, and with some cider to wash it down… delightful.

I wandered around a little more now that I was full and happy. I felt perfectly safe wandering around the nearly empty area at night by myself. I saw a few others doing the same, including single women. No worries at all. The Centro Histórico is brightly lit, clean, and altogether charming.

As I made my way back to the hotel, I stopped at the restaurant around the corner and got some dessert. They had flan, and I was well familiar with flan, having grown up in Miami. However, this was flan made with cheese, and that I was NOT familiar with.

Let me tell you, I’m a fan. This was like a custard caramel cheesecake, and I wanted more!

I wanted to stay up late to adjust my body to the Spanish schedule of late nights and late mornings. In addition, Wednesday and Thursday nights, I had online author groups to attend, and they met 6-8pm Eastern time, which translates to midnight – 2am my time.

But nope, my body said F you, I’m still recovering from yesterday. So I passed out to sleep.

Tuesday, February 18^th:

Despite it being February, it was quite warm within the hotel room, so sometime in the night, I opened the outer and inner windows. The inner shutter was still mostly shut, but I needed that bit of air.

However, that meant that the morning noise of garbage trucks and street sweepers woke me. I had gotten great sleep, though, so it wasn’t a bad thing. The first night of sleeping without waking every few hours with leg cramps was a win!

Once I got up and went down for desayuno, it was past 9am. Once again, I got café con leche, and with the sachet of sugar they always give, it was the perfect level of sweetness for me. That was true of every place I went. I also got a SMALL croissant this time (not the Monster Croissant).

This morning, I had a mission! Two, really. I was headed back down to Vigo to open a BBVA account. Also, to find a portable phone charger, since I left all mine at home. I scouted out a place that had both near each other, and went to get my car.

Well, sort of. First, I went to get the key to the parking garage. This was my first time getting the car since I parked it two days before. I had no problem finding the place again, but opening the garage door, that was another issue.

Yes, the key worked – on the little walk-in human-sized door. But opening the main garage door, so the car could get out? Nope.

I looked all around the inside of the garage near the door, and even down at the bottom of the ramp, but other than some spider-infested trusses, I found no buttons or levers that might create the magical door-opening spells.

I asked a woman who was opening the garage next to ours, but she couldn’t find one, either.

Luckily, the hotel was only a few minutes away, so I walked back. The clerk described it for me, said it was on a pillar in front of parking spot #1. Armed with this knowledge, I walked back and, sure enough, near the back of the parking garage, there was a big button. I pressed it, got in my car, and headed toward the door… only for it to close again. There must be a timer.

I got out, pressed it again, and hopped into the car, gunning it up the very steep ramp and out into FREEDOM.

I wasn’t headed straight for the bank. First, I wanted to check out some of the sites around Vigo, so the first spot I put in the TomTom was a viewpoint called Miradoro de Campo de Rata. After crossing the big bridge again, and lots of tiny, twisty roads that would make an Irish sheep farmer blanch, I missed one of the turns because someone else was coming down that road. The road was too steep and narrow for me to want to risk reversing, so I kept going. The TomTom said I could get there a different way.

It was a longer, steeper route, but I made it up there, and had a delightful view of the river below. Mostly worth it, I’d say.

Once I was done with that little sidequest, on to BBVA~! The route took me into Vigo proper, though the highway has a very confusing exit where, if you take the wrong side, the only option is to get back on highway and head back north 6km.

I made that mistake not once, but twice. In a row.

Luckily, I had no appointment but still, it was annoying.

Vigo proper was a true city – over 300,000 people. I didn’t care for how busy it was and how heavy traffic was. I much prefer the smaller city of Pontevedra. Still, it was great to find a place with everything I needed in one place.

I found the parking garage. Most of them are underground which is a new skill to master. The spots are TINY. I’m so glad I had a tiny rental car. Then, a block walk to BBVA.

My first clerk spoke decent English, better than my Spanish, but the woman who helped me open my account was not as good, so we relied on my Spanish and the translator app. There was much back and forth, questions and information, but we mostly got done.

I say mostly because I needed a Spanish phone number to be finished. She asked that I come back the next morning at 10am, because she had another appointment coming in soon. No problem! I figured this would be a multi-day affair. I’m just glad that so far, it had only been a half hour and she wasn’t saying no.

I went in search of the Vodafone store, but the GPS on my phone was outright lying now. It said there was a phone store across the street, but it was an electronics repair shop. Again, with my Spanish, I got information and directions, and so I walked two blocks away, voila! Not only was I able to get a prepaid sim card for my phone, but he helped me make sure it worked so I could get the account finalized the next day. Also, he directed me where to get a phone charger, just around the corner.

With everything (almost) completed, I headed for lunch. After all, it was now near 2 again, and I was hungry. The Baby Croissant was a long time ago.

Frustrated with my lack of luck last night, I was on a mission now. I wanted some of that pulpo de gallego, and I wasn’t afraid to search for it.

After three false starts (places closed either temporarily or permanently) and one place that looked really sketchy, I found A Tapa Do Barril.

The restaurant had a lunchtime cafeteria mixed with bakery/pastry shop feel, but I wasn’t looking for anything fancy. And this place not only had pulpo, it had pulpo de fieri!

Once again, I got a random tapa – this time, a piece of toast with a slice of jamón iberica and a fried egg, sprinkled with paprika. They DO like their paprika here! That’s also what was on the pulpo de fieri, along with olive oil. I think that’s all it was – but it was divinely delicious and I could eat this every day. I had a cider, too, of course.

After lunch, I wandered the streets of Vigo for a little bit, but finally needed away from the crowds and went back to the parking garage. I paid my ticket and pulled out, and went toward a sculpture park in Pontevedra. Alas, the TomTom just took me to a dead end in an industrial park. So, I tried another interesting spot, a park along the river, but again, TomTom couldn’t find it. Tired of being in the car, I drove back to the little parking garage near the hotel.

There was no issue getting back into the garage, or back to my room. There was some sort of local market setting up just outside the hotel, not for today, evidently, but perhaps for tomorrow. Several tables and booths had been set up, and some stock of crafts made from straw and wood.

I got my brand new charger hooked up and started working on a few tax returns to get caught up. While I was technically on vacation from my paid job, my sidegig was tax preparation, and I was in the middle of tax season, so I still had to do some work.

The one desk in my room was tiny, and the chair was not comfortable for someone with a butt my size. So I tried to move the desk over to have more room. That didn’t work. However, i did pull it back so I could sit on the bed instead. Now, that meant I had no back support, but at least I didn’t have the side of the chair digging into my hips constantly.

Now that I knew some of the local neighborhoods in Pontevedra, I looked up some listings for apartments on Idealista, the Spanish real estate site. There were plenty in the surrounding area, even in Centro Histórico, for €600- €750. Then, I tried to do some beta reading for one of my author group (critique another author’s work which they’d shared for that purpose), but someone was doing repairs in the hotel, and the loud drilling went right through my skull.

I gave up and went down to wander the streets for a little more, then stopped in the cafe for an afternoon snack. Cafe con leche and a mini-croissant, of course!

The television was playing an old spaghetti western, but not one I recognized. It was dubbed in Spanish, so I didn’t understand a lot beyond what was obvious by the movie itself. Bad men were coming to town, the owner of the ranch wouldn’t give in to their evil – your typical story.

As I enjoyed my coffee, several workers came in, also evidently on an afternoon break. Then an old man with a little bichon fries. They all seemed like regulars from the banter with the staff.

A family of two older folks (grandparents?) and 2 youn children came in. The adults had beers and the kids got soda and snacks.

After my coffee break, the drilling had stopped, so I returned to my room to finish up that beta reading task. That’s when I discovered that my Pandora wouldn’t work in Spain. Yikes! I worked best with some music in the background. I checked out Sound Cloud, but it was disappointing. I’d curated my Pandora station for years with my favorite Celtic music, which made me disinclined to like any new option.

I found a YouTube channel with generic Celtic music, and turned that on instead, and finished my editing.

Eventually, I headed back outside for more wandering. I was enjoying not having a purpose to such wanders. Normally, on vacation, I had a list of things to do and see, and tried to pack as much as I could into my trip. However, since I planned on living here, the urgency was much lower, and I could afford to just relax and get lost on purpose.

Around 9pm, I headed toward another restaurant that had looked intriguing – Trasmallo, which was just down the road. This was a tapas restaurant (as so many of them are) and specifically Galician/Galego. This place seemed classier than the more relaxed places I’d been eating. The waiter seemed very busy and all the tables were upstairs. Still, it smelled delicious, and I was hungry.

This is when I realized that my fancy translator app, which could take a photo of the menu and translate everything, wasn’t so great with idiomatic food names. Some of the translated dishes were Halloween Belly. Wings of Transfer Listing. Paganini Lake Kids. Volleyball.

In between chuckles, I ordered the croquettas for the first time on this trip. They’re on just about every menu, and I’d grown up eating croquettas in Miami. These were the softest, freshest ones I’d ever had, and even through there were just 8 on a dish, they filled me up completely. I had cider as well, of course.

For dessert, I had to decide between cheesecake with jam or ‘bochode corro con helado de strusel pearl.’ I chose the latter, and it turned out to be cinnamon ice cream topped with brown sugar and gelatin pear bits, stuffed inside an actual pear. Delicious! Way too much for me to finish, but still delicious.

After being so stuffed, I waddled back to the hotel. This was my third night and tomorrow I’d be heading to my second stop, Salamanca. I worked on packing up, but then decided it would be a clever idea to try and switch out my sim card for the one I bought in Vigo.

Well, that was a mistake.

I didn’t have the little tool that you need to pull out a physical sim card slot. Instead, I tried my cuticle scissors. I had to pull and tug at it with the scissors and FLING! It went flying. Both the tray and the card. Tiny things!

Now, this isn’t a huge bedroom. In fact, it’s on the small side. There are only so many places it could have gone. However, I pulled everything apart and couldn’t find it. I even shook the blankets, with no luck.

Now I had no working sim card. I was afraid to put the new one in until I was sure the old was found.

Finally, I shook the blankets again, and heard it fall. Found it!

Then, I needed the PUK code. I didn’t have it, so I pulled up a help chat with Vodafone. The first clerk (Jeremy) ghosted me when I couldn’t find where to enter the code. I started a second chat with Maria, and she suggested restarting the phone – which of course, closed the chat with her. No luck. Then a third one, Fernando, told me important information – that my PIN needed to be 6 digits and to enter that and THEN the PUK. It worked!

Now that my Spanish phone number could be used for my BBVA bank account tomorrow, I felt much easier, and I started thinking ahead again. And, unfortunately, I had an epiphany. My original plan was to head to Portugal and spend a few nights in Porto, before heading over to Cáceres. However, I now realized that I was really on a business trip, and the business purpose was to find a place I wanted to live for at least the next year.

I wasn’t settling in Portugal. I was settling in Spain. So why waste three days in Portugal when I could visit lots once I moved? Right.

I spent some time finding an interesting place to go next instead. I considered Zamora, as that had been on my short list originally, but I couldn’t find a decent-priced hotel so late.  I settled on Salamanca as being a place that was interesting as well as ‘on the way’ between Pontevedra and Cáceres. Then, I cancelled my hotel in Porto (yes, one of the nights was non-refundable) and set up a hotel in Salamanca. Easy-peasy!

Now, to sleep.

Wednesday: February 19th:

I woke up at 8, and while I had plenty of time to have breakfast and get to BBVA in Vigo before my 10am appointment, I did not have enough time for a side jaunt to the Castro De Santa Trega, a group of Celtic ruins I’d been hoping to visit. So, instead, I got the address of one in Vigo itself, Castro de Vigo, so I could check it out after the bank.

I went to check out, but since I had a key to the parking garage, I first had to go release my car, then bring back the key, and then get on my way. Miguel asked if I needed help, but I assured him I had it, and I did.

The drive to Vigo was pleasant and uneventful. Once again, I ran afoul of the exit that turned me around and sent me north 6 kilometres, rather than getting me off the highway and into the city. Eventually, I made it back to Vigo and the Gran Via and the parking garage.

I definitely didn’t feel like Vigo was where I wanted to live. Much too many people. Traffic. Noise.

I arrived 2 minutes late, but in Spain, that’s early. The woman helping me was on the phone anyhow, but she was ready soon. We got the account set up, but the app on my phone wasn’t working right. We tried it at least a dozen times, and then she tried, and then another person tried. Eventually, we figured out the right combination of numbers (it needed my passport, but with the US in front and without the A that’s part of the number).

The finalization of the app didn’t catch, but she said that would take overnight. I would be getting a card sent to the branch, but I’d have to pick that up when I came back there in July, after I moved. No worries, I didn’t need a card at this point.

Woohoo! Achievement unlocked! I had a Spanish bank account. This will make getting an apartment, utilitiles, etc. MUCH easier when I move.

Now, I went to find that Celtic ruin. It was supposedly up a hill, but the road my TomTom wanted me to take was closed for construction. I tried to go around, or find a place to park so I could walk, but the area was jampacked with parked cars and traffic jams.

I gave up.

That means, I was off to Salamanca. This was to be a four hour drive, but mostly highway, at least until the last hour or so.

I drove on the highway. Weaving through mountain valleys. Aqueducts peeked at me as I crossed rivers. I did have to stop at a gas station for a bio break, and I asked about food, but then I realized I wasn’t hungry yet. I’d regret that decision, of course, but I knew nothing then.

After two long, dark tunnels through mountains, the landscape shifted rather abruptly from green and lush to scrubby and dry. It faded back a bit, but definitely not nearly as verdant as it was near Vigo.

I stopped in Zamora for another bio break. I stopped at a gas station just off the highway. There was a bathroom in a separate building, but it was locked, and no one was in the gas station office. This was, of course, around 3pm, so nothing was open.

I asked someone stopping for gas where else I might go, he directed me to another gas station just in town. I went there, and there was definitely a gas station – but again, everything was locked tight. By this time, I was eying the bushes along the side of the lot, but I decided to walk down the block.

One older man suggested a bar he knew, about two blocks down. I started toward that direction, but found an open bakery instead, dipped in, relieved myself, and got some delicious custard tarts. Yum! My reward for using my Spanish in each of my questions.

Back to the car, and Salamanca was less than an hour away at this point.

Salamanca itself seemed like a reasonable city. A bit of traffic to start, but nothing as bad as Vigo was, and I was arriving around 4:30, after all. People were getting out of school and work.

I wound through some twisty streets, found myself in another Centro Histórico, and found my hotel, just a short walk away from the Plaza Mayor.

I parked my car in a spot in front of a nearby inmobiliario (real estate agent), and went to check in at the Ikonik Plaza Mercado. This was by far the most ‘commercial’ hotel except my final night by the Madrid airport.

Giancarlo, the desk clerk, was a true character. He urged me to remove my car as soon as I can to a parking garage, as the Centro was only for residents, so I dropped my bags in the room and went to park in a garage about three blocks away (again, underground). The spots were VERY narrow and I was VERY close to a pillar.

Back at my room, which was very much a single room and not large at all, I checked out the television, but only local broadcast stations were available. I couldn’t even get YouTube. I did need a table, though, so I removed the table from over the mini-fridge and dragged it to the bed. Also, the only plug in the room was behind that fridge.

An odd detail – this was the first place with actual rolls of toilet paper, rather than tissue-style dispensers where  you get one piece at a time.

Once I was settled and rested from my drive, I went out to ask Giancarlo where I should go for dinner. He gave me a map with historical sites, explained how close they were (they didn’t look as close as he said), and recommended a restaurant on the Plaza Mayor called Mesón Cervantes. Now, I know that local hotels usually have some sort of agreement with local restaurants, and there’s likely graft there, but they’re also sometimes really good (if expensive) options, so I’d give it a try.

The place was upstairs, but I studied the menu posted downstairs/outside for a few moments before I went up. This is one tradition in Europe I adore, posting the menu outside. It allows you to make your decision before actually sitting down, and if you don’t like the options, you move on.

There were plenty of things I wanted to try (and yes, they were expensive) so I went upstairs. Part was more like a bar and pastry shop, and part was a posh restaurant with over-the-top decoration and white linen tablecloths. I was early (it was barely 8pm) so there weren’t many people there.

I ordered the blood sausage & peppers with sangria (they didn’t have cider).

The food itself was delicious. The large family who sat next to me with five kids? Not as delightful. Still, I enjoyed the meal immensely, and got a lemon mousse for dessert. I was stuffed, but it would be wonderful a little later.

Well, my advice is – never get lemon mousse to go. By the time I got back to my hotel – really, barely 15 minutes later – it was nothing but soup. That’s what I get for getting mousse to go!

After all that driving, I slept really well.

Thursday, February 20^th:

This morning, I went out for a cafe con leche and a pastry. Of course, I had to check out the Plaza Mayor and how it looked in the daylight. There were lots of people there, seemingly locals or regulars, very few tourists with cameras and such. Of course, it was still 9am and February. It was chilly enough that I needed my jacket, so not exactly prime tourist season. Still, I loved that locals frequented such a place that would normally be a tourist trap.

The pastry I chose for breakfast had ham and cheese inside, and was delicious. There were lots of tostadas (single pieces of toast with stuff on top) to choose from – but I figured I’d have tostadas for lunch, and would wait until then.

Spanish pop music filled the cafe. Other than that, it was relaxing and peaceful inside. It was a bit on the chilly side for me to feel comfy sitting out on the plaza, though.

Then, I took a leisurely stroll around the Plaza Mayor, checking out all the shops, etc. I saw some ice cream places, lots of restaurants, gift shops, and… frogs. Yes, frogs. Not real ones, but little ceramic ones, plushies, cards – evidently frogs are a good luck symbol in Salamanca. Finding one in the architecture was supposed to be good luck. Of course, I searched after that, trying to find hidden frogs.

Also, lots of delivery trucks were parked outside various shops. I checked out each of the posted menus to stake out a place I would try for lunch, and found one on the other side from where I had breakfast.

I went back to my room and tried to log into BBVA website. It needed to give me a multi-factor authorization to my phone, so I gently removed the SIM card (taking care not to FLING it across the room like last time) and replaced it with my Vodafone one. The site was all in Spanish, but with some creative copying and pasting into Google Translate, I was able to try. Alas, while I could get onto the app on my phone, I couldn’t log into the website itself. I would probably need to visit a branch, but I didn’t need all that right now.

However, that brought me to some more wandering time. I got deliberately lost for a while, wandering in a random direction. Alleyways and students and lots of people.

Finally, it was getting near 2pm and my stomach was growling again, so I returned to the plaza for some tapas. Nero was the name of the restaurant, and I got a salmon tosta and a jamon bocadillo (little sandwich). They were both delicious, though the bocadilla had lots of olive oil, a bit too greasy. I was able to get some cider, too – Ladron de Manzanas.

The plaza was much more crowded now that it was mid-afternoon. In fact, there seemed to be lots of students in costumes. Group costumes, too – like 4-5 in thes ame costume.

I stopped two young men in costume to ask what was going on. They said that the entire Psychology department was having a college costume party. One of the young men was a Psych student, and the other was his cousin, visiting and joining in the fun. I saw a group with t-shirts that said ‘I heart Pavlov’, some folks were in chicken outfits, some lobsters, lots of frogs, some explorers. I had fun wandering the crowd.

I also mentioned to the two students I spoke to that I was thinking of moving here, and they said I absolutely should! It’s a great place to live.

I went off wandering again. By this time, it was almost warm, pushing 60F in the sun.

I wandered in a different direction this time, going toward the university and the churches, as per the map Giancarlo had given me. I found one place that looked to me like a church, but no, it was the university and the public library. That seemed so charming to me.

I even found my own gift shop! It said Regalos de Mary Cristy. (Regalos = gifts). I did encounter a man asking for money – the first time I’d been approached.

Wandering back down the hill, I found the Convento de las Dueñas (Dominican), framed by a lovely promenad of those tall, thin trees. I sat for a while on the bench, just enjoying the solitude. Next door was a statue and an enormous, ornate building, the Convento de San Esteban.

So far on this trip, I hadn’t explored any church interiors. While I’m not Catholic, I love church architecture and wanted to go inside. However, the sign on the door said it wouldn’t open until 4, and it was only 3. No problem! I could wander a bit more and explore soon.

And I saw more people dressed as chickens wandering about.

I walked down the main avenue (Calle San Pablo) toward the bottom of the hill. This was the end of the old town/student area, it seemed, as there were more industrial places and lots more traffic. I turned around and came up a side street, ending up in another convent. How many convents were there around here? Lots!

Now, the Convent was open, and I was able to go in, pay the entrance fee, and explore.

Inside, it was amazing. Cool stone corridors, an inner courtyard with a place to sit in silence, incredibly intricate sculptures, side-alcoves, etc.

After wandering for a long time, I went to find the two cathedrals next to each other, the old one and the new one. Climbing up the hill and through some side streets, I finally found them. It was one entrance fee to see both, so that’s precisely what I did.

Lots of other visitors were there, as well as some tour groups, but the sheer size of the place dwarfed us all.

I found both cathedrals fascinating, both the intricacies of the newer construction and the antiquity of the older one.

Photodump time!

I also found some headless monks!

Finally outside again, I walked back to the plaza again to rest. I’d done a lot of walking today, and needed to sit for a while. I returned to my morning spot and got a cooke and coffee. It was warmer, so I sat out in the plaza and did some people watching. The three older women in the table next to me were gossiping about their neighbors, but I couldn’t catch any juicy details.

After my afternoon break, I went back to the hotel and took a nap. It was Thursday, and therefore I needed to be up midnight to 2am for one of my author group discussions.

A few hours of trying to rest was mostly successful. I woke again, ready for some dinner, and it was almost 9pm, so excellent timing. I returned to Nero to try a few of the other items that had looked intriguing.

This time, I tried the shrimp tostada and a sardine tostada. They weren’t as great as the salmon one I had at lunch, but tasty enough. I considered taking home some cheescake, but I saw one go by while I was waiting, and it was huge. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I’d made with the lemon mousse, so I passed.

Friday, February 21st:

Walking all day yesterday had worn me out. Today was a relaxation day. So let it be written, so let it be done. I did need to do laundry, but luckily the laundrette was literally around the corner.

First, I had my cafe con leche and an enormous apple tart. Of course, after all that, my stomach decided it was NOT happy with me. Still, it didn’t tell me in strident terms until after I had walked halfway to my car. I needed to retrieve the dirty laundry (I had left the dirties in the trunk) so I could do all the laundry today.

I had to stop and sit on a bench for a while before I could complete my mission. However, this is an excellent time to mention that I was pleasantly surprised at how many benches were everywhere! Lots of opportunity to sit and rest. I believe this is from being a much more walking-centric society, but I could be wrong.

I did a little nap after the hike back up the hill from my car, but got up to have lunch at 2. Again, I went for Nero – I’d had a decent lunch there and was eager for another salmon tosta. In addition to that, I had a brie and jam tosta, with roasted onions on it. Yummy!

It took a little more than an hour to do my laundry. Clean, quiet place. No one else there, just me and four washers and four dryers. I imagine it was rather popular on the weekend with the students being nearby, but then again, washers seemed to be in every rental, so maybe they had their own. Dryers, however, seemed scarce on the listings I’d looked at, as most folks would hang their clothing to dry.

After laundry, I wandered once more. This time, I did more sitting and people watching than walking. I was still a bit beat and my stomach wasn’t super-happy with me. I did some tax returns and emails, as well, back at the room.

For dinner, I decided to try some non-Spanish food. There was an Indian restaurant just down the block, so I went there. Well, I tried at 8:30, but it was pouring rain! I was hungry, but not that hungry, and I had no umbrella. You don’t really think about it, but the rain in Spain does fall mainly on the plain.

After about a half hour, the rain stopped, and I ventured back out for dinner. I had some dolicho shrimp and rice and garlic naan, and it was delicious. The water was weird – bottled water with a peel-off metal top.

After dinner, I stumbled back to the hotel and fell fast asleep.

Saturday, February 22nd:

Today was a travel day! The trip from Salamanca to Cáceres was shorter than the last travel day, only a bit more than 2 hours, according to TomTom. I got up and showered, packed all the things, and got out the door early.

Extracting my little car from the claustrophic parking spot with the pole snug up against it was a bit trickier, but I managed to do it with only a slight scratch on the door handle. South to Cáceres!

I saw a few random bulls on this trip. Not real bulls, but enormous metal cutouts. Later research told me these were erected as part of a brandy ad campaign, but now they’re just iconic.

I drove through some gorgeous scenery. Mountains, valleys, arroyos, etc. I did stop in Plasencia for gas, but none of my credit cards worked, and I couldn’t figure out why. Evidently, this gas station (Shell!) only took a special prepaid card? No worries. I had cash, and cash always worked. €20 filled my tank 2/3 up which worked for now.

Cáceres seemed lovely. A lot more vertical than Pontevedra, and though Salamanca was on a hill, it seemed more spread out.

Parking was interesting. The closest garage I’d found was actually under a hotel, but it seemed the hotel only claimed part of the spaces. I found a spot that wasn’t obviously the hotel, parked, and made my way out, through the hotel itself. I felt sort of weird, but it seemed no one cared.

Then, I made the trek to the hotel in the Old Town (Parte Antigua), about 3 or 4 blocks away. It was only about a quarter mile, but all uphill. I had to stop a few times, as I was pulling my luggage and my purse, even though I left what I wouldn’t need back in the car.

There was a lovely little mini-square that looked peaceful, several narrow alleys, but I finally made it to Hotel La Boheme, right on the Plaza Mayor.

As I checked in, and Rosa told me my room was on the 4th floor and there was no elevator, I blanched a bit. However, she offered to help me drag my luggage up and I gratefully accepted her offer. It wasn’t so bad, and the hotel had definite character. An old building with winding stairs, lots of Bohemian decoration, and the room itself was huge and quirky. I adored it.

She then recommended Almagosto for lunch, and I went out for some much-needed sustenance.

Plaza Mayor was amazing, with incredible medieval buildings surrounding it. The day was chilly enough that I had to keep my jacket on, but the sun was shining and there were people around.

The restaurant did not, alas, have any cider. However, they had sangria, so I went all touristy and ordered that and got some salad (ensalada mezclum con jamón y pesto verde) and grilled squid from the set menu. My mini-tapas was a piece of bread with a slice of chorizo.

The salad was enormous! And when they said pesto verde, they weren’t kidding. I think a cilantro monster had an accident all over my salad! It wasn’t overpowering, though, and the crispy bacon on top blended well with the mild fresh cheese bits. The squid – I’d never had it served like that before, in cut up squares. It was tender and tasty, though. And I was glad to actually get some vegetables in my gullet. The Spanish tended not to serve them a lot, I guess?

After having thus fortified myself with fuel, I wandered around the delightful buildings around the Plaza Mayor. Around the Palacio de Ovando, the Torre de los Espaderos, Palacio de Carvajal, Concatedral de Santa María de Cáceres.

I wasn’t the only one exploring, but it was getting chilly as the day waned, and I was tired, so I headed back to the hotel.

Back in my hotel room, I settled in and turned on the telly to see what was on offer. I found Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman en Español, and set that on. I knew the story and characters enough that I could follow along with the Spanish.

That’s when I discovered that the dongle that connected my mouse to my laptop had gotten bent out of shape. I tried to bend it back, but it was dead. I was so tired, but not sure why. Maybe I’m just not as young as I used to be, and traveling was taking it out on me? Or that hike up to the hotel and then up to my room. I was cold, too, but couldn’t seem to get warm. Was I coming down with a cold? Who knows. Frustrated, I took a nap.

When I woke, I fiddled with the computer again. The wifi wasn’t working well, and I figured the server would be on the ground floor and was probably weak way up on the 4th floor. One of the vagaries of quirky hotels was that the amenities were quirky, too.

I wandered out to the square again, as it was about dinner time. I passed several places, reading their menus, hoping to find a place with actual tapas-sized tapas. Judging from the prices, they only had full-sized rations, not half-rations (media raciones). I wanted the smaller ones so I could try more than one, but not waste half the food.

I was passing La Requeté and they hawked me into trying it (i.e., there was a woman roping people in with persuasive sales pitch). I sat outside, and it was still cold even though they had space heaters.

Finally, I got a cider! I ordered the gambas (shrimp) but they were out. For dinner, I ordered a tapas of carmelized onion and goat cheese tosta and a stew with pork cheeks and potato. I was hoping that would warm me up!

So, they were both tasty, but wow! Those pork cheeks were amazing. Incredibly tasty, fall-apart tender, I could have eaten them with a spoon. I couldn’t finish them or half of the goat cheese tosta, but they were fine about giving me a take-away container for the rest. I had no wish to waste such deliciousness.

Back in my room, the main heater wasn’t sufficient. I was still freezing – I looked at the thermostat. 50F! Luckily, they offered a portable radiator, as well, and I plugged this on and moved it closer to the bed. That did the trick. I had to turn off both heaters around midnight, but finally I slept well and warm.

Sunday, February 23^rd:

I woke up pretty well-rested and downed the rest of the tosta and beef cheeks for breakfast. However, I had a dilemma. I had no cutlery! This was no big deal for the tosta, but the beef cheeks were more problematic. I could walk down four flights of stairs and ask for some, then come back up… or just use my fingers. I chose the latter.

Then I went down for a café con leche. The hotel had a café on the ground floor, with some baked goods and such, and it was a cozy, friendly space.

Today, I was due for an exploration of the area. As opposed to when I was in Salamanca, I was actually going out driving about. My immigration guy (Chris) insisted I would love Trujillo, so I decided to go find it. I also considered Merida and the Monastery de Guadalupe, on the advice of Rosa, but I would play that by ear on how much energy I had.

Of course, as soon as I pulled out, I noticed the oil light blinking on my rental car. Oh, yay. On one hand, since it JUST came on, I was sure I had plenty of time before it became a problem. On the other hand, I would much rather figure out how to add some oil rather than end up with a seized engine on the side of the road halfway to Ávila in a few days.

So, my first stop was a gas station on my route to Trujillo. The clerk spoke almost no English, but I used my limited Spanish to figure out how to add aceite (oil) to my engine, and go through the car manual to figure out which type. Achievement unlocked!

I also bought a bag of Jamón flavored Ruffles as a snack. Spoiler alert: They were DELICIOUS.

Past several rolling green fields with mountains in the distance, I came close to Trujillo. I spied a ruined castle on a hill, and took a side street, thinking it might lead up to it. Nope, just down to a little farming village. But it was a mini-side quest.

I went on to Trujillo proper, and my TomTom wanted me to go up the narrow roads into Old Town. However, knowing how hard it was to find parking, and realizing it was around noon on a Sunday in a Spanish village, I realized any parking would be taken by church-goers.

So, I managed to find a spot down an alleyway. Not in Old Town proper, but barely a block away.

Then, it was time to climb The Hill. Evidently, the center of Old Town in Trujillo is the Castillo de Trujillo (very original) and was built between the 9^th and 12^th centuries. There is, of course, a Plaza Mayor, and that was my first goal. That’s always the goal for Spanish towns – the center of tourism and food!

So, up through windy streets with Old Town flavor I went. Finally, I reached the main plaza, and did a full walk around, checking out the restaurants, the buildings, the statues, and the people.

Next, I decided upon a place to eat. It was bright out, but still very chilly, and I wanted to eat someplace warm. I chose a place that looked a bit more posh than I cared for, but it had indoor seating and had interesting menu items.

I ordered a dish that had eggs, fries, langostines, and… baby eels (gulas). I had no idea what this would be like, but I was trying new things! Again, they didn’t have cider, but I asked for something sweet, and he brought me a fruit wine called Castillo de Salobreña. It was pretty tasty! Also, my mini-tapas today were some crinkle-cut fries and three very posh and delicious chicken nuggets, oddly enough.

Though the dish looked on the scary side, it was rather tasty. There was too much and I could never finish, but the eels were sort of sweet, like crab meat with the texture of mussel if someone had made strings of them.

Once I was sated, I braved the cold again and went to explore some more. Would I try to climb to the top of the hill and explore the castle? Sure, why not!

 So, up I went, through winding streets and narrow alleys. I almost stopped a few times to give up, and I took a wrong turn now and again.

Up, up, up, I went. Finally, I reached the top, and could see out across the city! The climb was definitely worth the view.

Now, I had to explore the castle itself. There was a garden, though it was rather dry and brown because, duh, it was still February. This may be Spain, but it was still central Spain (not southern Spain) and it was chilly. The plants knew this!

So I went past the gardens and kept climbing up the ‘driveway’ to the main castle. Everything seemed dry and dusty and brown here. But I was sweating from my climb, so I’d taken my jacket off and mopped my face.

Honestly, even though the climb was tough, this day of exploration was one of the highlights of my visit. My immigration guy, Chris, had been right. I adored this area. I even passed by Pizarro’s house (evidently yes, the conquistador Francisco Pizarro. I remember learning about him in school in Miami)

The city was too small, alas, to support my dream of a place I could survive without a car – not enough infrastructure and public transport options, most likely. However, it would be a great place to visit.

And now, it was time to climb back down the hill, a considerably easier task than climbing up, let me tell you. Yes, I’m 56 and fat, and in terrible shape. But it made me proud to have made the attempt and actually succeed.

My goal is to become much more fit, with many more opportunities to walk once I move to Spain.

Down, down, down, past the Plaza Mayor, past the shops, past the cathedrals. The trip up (lunch included) took 2 hours. The trip down? 15 minutes.

Once I got back to my car, which had been sitting in the sun, the temperature on the dashboard said 12C – which is 80F! Wow. I had to put the AC on for part of the trip back to Cáceres.

But I didn’t want to get back to the hotel yet. Rosa had recommended some places to visit, such as Casa de la Veletas, for an ancient Islamic font, and I found that intriguing. I found a place to park at the bottom of the hill, once again suspecting that parking would be difficult to find in the warren of old alleys.

I had been right, of course. But that also meant another uphill climb. Of course.

Still, getting in shape had to start somewhere, right? Right? And it was fun exploring the medieval buildings and all the stoneworks. There were gargoyles and wooden doors and cobblestones everywhere.

It took several re-orientations on my GPS to find the right place, and as I got there, I saw the sign – closed at 3pm today. It was now 4pm, and I was disappointed, but hey, that’s what I got for doing this on a whim. Two men had arrived and came to the same conclusion, and we had a brief conversation about it (in Spanish!)

Lessons learned, I headed back down to the car and to the parking lot, then hiked up to the hotel.

I was feeling a bit peckish, so I went to the little ice cream place nearby and got a mandarin gelato. It was delicious, and the day was much warmer today, so the gelato hit the spot.

Speaking of seeming warmer, that made me think. Several people, when I mentioned Cáceres as an option for moving to, exclaimed that it was very hot there in the summer. The climate data didn’t seem that bad – a high of 92F and a low of 65F in July. I’d certainly dealt with much worse in Miami. Heck, Connecticut can get that hot in the summer. However, if it could get this warm in February, maybe they had a point. I would have to think on that.

I grabbed my laptop and took it down to the cozy lounge on the ground floor to do some work where the wifi was strong.

After my laptop ran out of battery, I was hungry again, but I wasn’t sure I wanted a full dinner. I was tired from all my walking today, up a damned mountain, and I just wanted something sweet. I opted for a chocolate ganache layer cake from the hotel café, and called that dinner. I went to bed shortly after that.

Monday, February 24^th:

Monday, Monday. Chocolate cake for breakfast! Yes, I ate the second half of the chocolate layery goodness for a breakfast of champions. I saved the spoon, but it was tiny. Don’t judge me. I’m on vacation.

Then, I went downstairs to have some café con leche. This morning’s mission was to get a replacement dongle for the laptop so I could use my mouse again. As per Rosa, there was a store just down the street from the Plaza Mayor that should work, so I walked down to that.

Monday was much busier along the street than it had been this early on the weekend. This made sense as people actually worked and lived here, but it was interesting to see folks going about their mornings.

I even stopped into a church briefly, and listened to the service (in Spanish, of course)

I still had about a block to go to the Digi store, when I spied a phone store, and ducked in there. They did have what I needed, score! I sauntered back toward the main square, stopping in several places. I wanted to buy gifts for some of my friends back home, and I went in 3 or 4 places. Most of the things I got at one little store and had a great conversation (in Spanish) with the clerk about politics and the economy, of all things. My Spanish was getting better! Yes, my grammar was horrible, and I knew it (I’m still learning past and future tenses) but he seemed to understand me, and I mostly understood him. I do admit, there were a few times when I was just nodding and smiling, though.

Now that I had a working mouse, I caught up on more things, including some tax returns. Then, I ventured out for lunch and had more pork cheeks. Not at the same place, a different spot. Also, fried anchovies. Potato chips for the mini-tapas? Ok, sure. They had no cider, so I asked for something sweet. He brought me a beer – bleh. I just had water.

Both the anchovies and the pork cheeks were delicious.

After lunch, I wandered a little bit into the side streets, but it was colder today, so I retreated back to the hotel and warmed up. I was napping a lot on this trip. But then again, I was walking far more than I was used to doing at home, too.

When I went out for dinner later, I went to a little poké cafe I had seen earlier. It was mostly bleh, but it filled me up and I felt better for having eaten some vegetables. This time, I got a larger spoon and saved it! I wouldn’t be caught out without cutlery again, I swore.

Tuesday, February 25^th:

Travel day! I packed up and dragged my suitcase and bag downstairs, had an enormous apple cake for breakfast with my café con leche, and left. After trekking the several blocks to the parking lot and to my car, I got on the road again. This time, without having to navigate around a pillar.

Once on the road, I realized I was on the same route I’d taken the last hour or so of my trip down from Salamanca, as I passed Plasencia (and went through no less than EIGHT traffic circles in a row along a side street!). Another big metal bull on the side of the road, lots of what looked like vineyards, but I later learned they would have been cherry orchards. This was near the village of Cabazuela del Valle, and it was a lovely town, perched on a peaceful river. I had to get out and stretch my legs and enjoy the view.

Then, I drove up a mountain. Up and up, windy switch back roads. Not single lane – luckily! But still, very narrow and very windy. In a stick shift car, this was fun.

The top of the mountain had an incredible view, Mirador del Puente Becedas. 4183 ft up! I could see the entire valley I’d just been driving through below me.

This was also when I crossed the border from Castilla Y León into Ávila, according to the sign. Woohoo!

I had not expected to drive over a mountain on this trip, but I’m glad I got a spectacular view from it.

After I came down the other side, the land was very flat except for low mountains on either side of the valley. I went through a few villages, probably drove over a half hour, but then saw a brown sign.

Now, Ireland has me well-trained on brown signs. They usually indicate some historical site or scenic view, so I checked it out. Castro La Ulaca? I pulled over and looked it up – it was an oppida, an ancient stronghold for the Vettones, the Celtic tribe who lived here during the Roman conquest.

Did I want to see that? Hell, yes!

So, I took the turn down the ever-narrowing road, and ended up in a village called Villaviciosa. TomTom wanted me to go up this very rutted dirt road, and my little economy car would never survive that, so I parked and started walking. However, as I kept walking and kept walking up a hill, it seemed like the trip would be longer than I originally imagined – and I did have to get to Ávila today and check into my hotel.

After a few indicisive turns back and determined turns forward, I finally gave it up. When I moved here, I could spend more time finding it. I returned to my car, saw two kitties, and a local man directed me further up to another road. I drove to where he sent me, but it was the same road, just a different entrance.

Ah, well. Next time. Off to Ávila, which was only about 20 minutes away at this point.

Ávila is a walled city, and I drove through the actual walls (well, an entrance arch in the wall) to get to my hotel. The first parking lot I found seemed only for a particular hotel, so I found a second one, parked, and had a 10 minute walk uphill to my hotel. I’m glad I only took the stuff I needed!

The hotel was just around from a much smaller plaza, the Plaza del Mercado Chico. My hotel (Hostal Le Vintage) was quirky, but the best part was my room was only on the first floor (not the ground floor, but definitely not the 4^th floor!)

The room was very clean and overlooked a side street with a few restuarants and cafes, and I could see the cathedral down at the end of the block.

After I settled in, I asked about a place for lunch, and the clerk directed me to a place called Restaurante de Cine, about two blocks away. I found it – very kitschy American old Hollywood place. I ordered some yummy red shrimp croquettes and a caprese salad, but didn’t read all the ingredients. The salad had the normal mozzarella, tomato, and pesto, and then a ball of olive oil ice cream in the middle. Yup, that’s right! It was tasty enough, but unexpected, to say the least.

After lunch, I needed a nap after all that driving up and down mountains. So I holed up in my room and did some computer stuff, watched some videos, and took a nap.

There were some very tense parts of that drive, but it’s all part of the adventure, right? I definitely needed to not be sitting for a while, and it was chilly out.

I got up around 8, and decided it was time for dinner. Am I just napping and eating? It sounds like it, right? I swear, there is more in between.

Very few places were open, but I wasn’t sure if it was because it was February, early in the evening (only 8pm) or because it was Tuesday.

I’d noticed a place on the way in that looked intriguing, sort of castle-style decoration. Tres Siglos, it was called, with a medieval feel. Definitely a little on the formal side, white tablecloths and all that. Touristy, and a very long menu, which usually isn’t a great sign.

I asked for cider, but alas, no luck. I wanted to try the fried suckling pig, as someone had recommended that being a specialty of the region, but the only thing they had was close were more like hard chicharrones, which were so tough and chewy, my jaw ached. I only ate a few and then left. No bueno. The fries were okay, at least.

Maybe it was because I was near the end of my trip, or just because it had been a long day, but I was feeling disenchanted.

When I asked the clerk about why so many places were closed, I didn’t really understand his answer. Frustrated and still picking bits of hard pork out of my teeth, I went to sleep.

Wednesday, February 26^th:

When I woke, I reached out to grab my phone from the nightstand… and fell! The entire mattress had slid during the night and me reaching over was the literal tipping point. The top mattress fell off the bottom mattress, dumping me onto the floor. Talk about a rude awakening! Well, at least I was up.

I went to take a shower, and the shower head worked, but it was a weird dribble of water. At least it was hot. It was as I was shutting off the water that I realized there was another dial I hadn’t tried, and that made the shower ‘normal’. Ah, well.

By my calculations, I wouldn’t have to do another load of laundry. However, I would need to have a few more pair of clean undies and bras, so I washed those in the sink and hung them to dry while I went about my day.

This morning, I went to the café next door for a café con leche and a huge croissant. Some locals came in, but from what I could tell, very few tourists were up and about. The day was chilly and of course, Spain doesn’t really wake up until 10am anyhow.

Today, I planned on going into BBVA to see if I could finally get onto my phone app. When I set up the account, they had said to give it overnight, and try again, but I’d been unsuccessful so far. Luckily, my current place was a block away from a branch, so I toddled over there when they opened at 10am. The first clerk tried a few times, then a second one. Finally, they pulled over a manager, and we got it to work. Success!

Next, I wandered through some streets, exploring Ávila. I checked out several posted menus, searching for one that might have small tapas plates, where I could try more than one thing without getting stuffed. Most of them listed full plates and raciones (based on the prices). It’s possible that half-rations were available if I would have asked, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking yet. If I learn that’s more common, I might change my practice.

I though about one place, but it wasn’t open yet (it was only 1:45pm at this point, early for lunch). A second place looked promising but was so noisy, both inside and out, that I could barely hear myself think and I hadn’t even gone in yet. Also, it was very dark inside, and I wanted to write my trip updates in my notebook.

Eventually, I went to a place called La Conventa, as I noticed several locals going inside. Evidently, though, it was just for them to hang out and chat, not eat, as I was the only one sitting at a table.

I finally ordered the national dish (LOL) patatas bravas, after seeing it on many menus. This is a dish of roasted chunks of potatoes with a sauce drizzled over, supposedly something spicy or garlicy. In addition, I ordered a tuna w/guacamole tosta. I asked for a sweet drink, and he brought me spumosi filasandro – and it was actually a very sweet white wine. Finding truly sweet white wine in the US is a challenge. What most people consider sweet, I consider dry. However, I would discover that the Spanish do indeed like sweet wines.

The tuna was unfortunately, canned flake tuna, not my favorite, and the guacamole was barely a schmear. And the patatas bravas sauce was like spicy ketchup and on the sweet side. I wasn’t a fan of that. The mini-tapas was olives, and they were delicious – in olive oil, not too salty/briny.

After the disappointing lunch, I wandered about town some more, taking photos, and exploring some of the back streets. The town was lovely, but I wasn’t really feeling at home. Maybe it was because it was so chilly and rainy. Maybe because I was nearing the end of my trip and getting travel fatigue. But after a while, I went back up to the hotel and stayed in most of the rest of the afternoon. I did do some people-watching out of my balcony, which was nice.

I wandered out again and decided to stroll through a few bakeries, searching for a local dessert I’d heard about, Yemas de Santa Teresa. However, the place I visited only sold them in boxes of 9 or more, which seemed way too much. Instead, I got a selection of sweets to snack on. Including little hedgehogs filled with nuts!

It got noisier down below, which meant it was getting toward evening. The people were out and about. I descended in search for dinner. I had researched some places online, hoping not to fall for the touristy crap again. Maybe that’s why I had been feeling so out of sorts – most of the meals I’d had were disappointing in some way here.

I found a local café that looked rustic and not-touristy, on one of the side streets. The place had a counter and like three tables.

I ordered the Castilian soup, another sweet white wine (Frizzante), and ordered a goat cheese and onion burger.

Well, I got the soup and it was absolutely delicious. Castilian soup is a garlic soup with little crumbles of chorizo and bread in it, with egg (like an egg drop soup) but much thicker, in a beef broth. I was in heaven – and wanted more. The burger, however, ended up being an egg/bacon burger. Not what I ordered, but it was good, too. The soup was better, and I couldn’t eat the rest of the burger, but I was fine with that.

Back at the hotel, I dove into some edits on my current work-in-progress, Veiled in Ancient Shadows, the 4^th book of my time travel series. I hadn’t been doing much editing since I got on the plane to arrive, as it’s much easier to edit from a feedback document with two screens, but I got through several of them. Then, at midnight, I met with my author group (they meet 6pm-8pm Eastern), but didn’t make it longer than an hour before I was ready for sleep.

Thursday, February 27^th:

Sometime around midnight, I woke, dripping in sweat. Therefore, I opened the windows open to let some cool air in. Unfortunately, around 3am, I was rudely awakened by loud street noises. No, not late night partying Spaniards, but a very load street sweeping vehicle.

Also, the shower dripped every few seconds. I tried to stop the noise by putting a towel at the bottom, but that didn’t work once the towel was saturated. However, draping the towel worked perfectly, as it was a much shorter drop for the loud drips to fall.

Then, around 8:45, the church bells rang for a full fifteen minutes, which meant I was definitely up and awake, but it was about time, anyhow, despite my fitful night. I wandered out for some coffee. It was rainy but mostly just drizzly, so it wasn’t too bad. I went to Café Felipe, the place I ate at yesterday morning. Today, it was crowded! I ate in a table near the back, and got some churros.

You may think you’ve had churros in the US. And you have, but likely not Spanish churros. These are not covered in sugar and cinnamon. They are deep fried, yes, but almost savory. Buttery and crisp and fresh. Almost like a waffle in taste, before you put any butter or syrup on it. I had my normal café con leche, munched on my churros, and tried to tune out the couple behind me. She was chattering non-stop and he kept trying to get a word in edge-wise, but failed.

Next, I went to explore the Cathedral de Ávila. I paid my entrance fee and went inside, always awed by the delightful architecture and sheer beauty and magnificence of Catholic churches. I kept running into a large group of Japanese tourists, so I went around the other way to have more peace. Then, I came across a shrine to St. Nicholas! Yes, my last name was literally from St. Nicholas (maybe a different one?) as the Jesuits who came to convert the native tribes my ex-husband descended from used saints names to hand out as surnames for the locals.

I found amazing Renaissance paintings, icons, and triptychs.

Outside again, I found lots more people around 11am than earlier. There were groups of school kids. Shouldn’t they be in school? Down one side street, I found three cats and a woman who stopped to pet and feed them, but she said she didn’t know their names.

I reached the outer walls, and considered climbing them, but the stairs were very narrow, and I wasn’t really feeling up to the adventure at the moment. Perhaps later. I wandered through some more back alleys, checked out some places to eat later, and went back to the hotel to catch up on some emails and stuff.

Around 2, I went out to one of the spots I had scouted out earlier. Reyes Catolicos. I ordered the Jamón Bodega and Salmon/guacamole tosta. I found another lovely sweet white wine – Yllera Cinco 5 Blanco Frizzante. The painting above me (a print on canvas) was one I was familiar with – a Renaissance painting of a woman holding a stoat.

The jamón plate came out with huge chunks of toast and an orange sauce. The taste was slightly bitter and very bland. I didn’t care for the sauce at all, but the jamon on toast was delightful. There was LOTS of it, too! The salmon tosta was huge and took up the entire plate. I had to take most of it home, as I was saving room for dessert. One of the reasons I chose this place was because they offered the Yemas de Santa Teresa as a dessert and I really wanted to try them.

Oh. My. God. There were just four little yellow balls on my plate, surrounding a huge dollop of sweet whipped cream. But they were AMAZING. The recipe evidently calls for egg yolks and sugar. That’s it! They were cool and dense and super-sweet. I was a fan.

After that, I waddled carefully back to my hotel and did some more editing. This would be another late night, as I had my second author’s group midnight to 2am. The rest of the salmon and guacamole tosta became my dinner.

Friday, February 28^th:

This was my final full day in Spain! I was up at 8 when the street sweepers came through, and listened as I dressed to the shop owners putting out their chairs for customers. Then the church bells rang. I packed up, left the key in the drop box, and went to my new favorite Café Felipe for a croissant and café con leche. When I was just about finished, they came out with a huge tray of fresh made chicharrones, and brought me a plate with a few on them. SO much better than the stale, rock hard ones I had at that other restaurant! Salty and hot and delicious.

Out in the plaza, people were all set up for a farmer’s market. Now, the Plaza de Mercado Chico name made perfect sense. There were people selling jamon, bread, vegetables, candy, fruit, even pans and clothing.

Once I got back to my car, I considered my route. My only real goal today was to drive to my Madrid Airport hotel, as I had a flight out the next morning. However, Madrid was only about an hour or so away. So what was nearby that I might check out on the way? I found something called Manzatanes de Real, a palace of some sort, and headed my TomTom towards that.

The route took me through several picturesque villages, alongside a few mountains, and through one long tunnel. Then, near a lake and a mountain, I found the palace… and absolutely no parking whatsoever. I didn’t want a long walk up the hill, so I decided to pass with just a driveby photo. I was definitely in the end-of-trip blahs at this point, further fueled by the realization that I was moving here, so could check out stuff at a more leisurely pace then.

It was only a half hour more to Madrid, but most of that was on the highway. There were some very tall skyscrapers in the distance, and highway driving was nothing unusual. I found the airport B&B without any issues, and it was a typical airport place. And on the ground floor! With a desk the right height and a chair that wasn’t painfully uncomfortable! Score! Of course, the view out the window was to a scrubby alleyway and the highway, but you get what you get. I didn’t choose this for a charming view; I chose it so I would be close to the airport.

The hotel itself only served breakfast, and I was hankering for some lunch. Luckily, there was another hotel across the street that had a full restaurant, so I went there, to the Crowne Plaza. I ordered some salmon and veggies, as they didn’t seem to have any sweet wines or cider.

The salmon was perfectly rare, the way I like it, crispy on the outside. The scant veggies were shaved bits. They really don’t like their veggies here!

Back at the hotel, I did some tax work, caught up on stuff so I wasn’t swamped when I returned, and checked in  to my flight.

Around 7, thunder rumbled, and I figured a hotel restaurant near an international airport would serve early, right? I had no umbrella and didn’t want to get caught in the rain. I scooted over to the other hotel again, and this time, I had a very dark, syrupy port wine. Too syrupy for my taste. The burger and fries were standard, and at least they did medium-rare correctly. Not a lot of taste, but not terrible.

I beat the rain back to my own hotel, packed up in anticipation of the morning, and headed to bed.

Saturday, March 1^st:

I got up, showered, finished packing, and headed out for my 8 Euro breakfast. I was surprised that it was more than usual for a hotel breakfast buffet. There was eggs, chorizo, pancakes, sandwich fixings, lots of pastry choices, fruit, etc. I got a few slices of oat bread, some jamón, chorizo, and cheese, café con leche, some tortilla (Spanish potato omelet), and everything was reasonable and filling.

Then, came the fun part. TomTom took me to the airport, yes, but the back end of this enormous airport, and I couldn’t find where the actual rental car drop off was. I tried multiple addresses, and ended up going in and out of some areas three times. I was getting a bit nervous that I wouldn’t get there early enough, even though I still had more than 2 and a half hours. Finally, I found the long-term parking, and I stopped to ask the clerk where the rental car drop off was. She said to turn around, and come back in as I just had, but there’s a little side street to the right. The signage is NOT big and bold like it is in the US. I had to squint to actually see it when I came close.

Finally, I found the drop off (which is one lane past the pickup). Two other guys were driving around confused in the next aisle, so I told them what I’d just learned, and they thanked me.

Then I saw them three more times – at checkin, at security, and at the gate. We chatted for a bit – they were going home to South Carolina. Everything went pretty smoothly through security, which only took about a half hour. Not bad for a huge international airport at 8am on a Saturday. Passport control took 5 minutes, then I had a tram to T4S (which is the same as S).

However, it was a decent trek through the terminal to my gate. I had plenty of time, so I stopped to get one last jamón and cheese baguette before I left Spain. While it’s always delicious, the bread was crumbly enough that it made a huge mess (yes, I cleaned it up). This trip, I checked my luggage for the trip home, as I just didn’t care if it was actually delayed. I have more clothing at home, so it wouldn’t be nearly as much of an issue.

While waiting for my flight, I looked up what I could do for my 6 hour layover in Philadelphia. I first considered just taking a train up and then getting an Uber home, and forgoing the last leg of the trip. However, I made a fatal error when I left – I forgot my keys in my car when Patrick dropped me off. The keys to my house, that was, so I couldn’t get in. So, Patrick HAD to pick me up, so I could get the keys from him. So, 6 hours in Philly it was. I discovered I could purchase a day in the Admiral’s Club Lounge for some airline points, and so I did exactly that.

I also upgraded to Premium economy for about $150, which meant my 7-hour flight was in a wider, more comfortable seat, with an actual solid separator between me and my neighbor (a quiet woman close to my own age). The long seat belt actually fit me without the need of an extender and I had plenty of leg room. On the way back, I watched the last bit of The Conclave that I hadn’t seen before, watched Deadpool vs. Wolverine, a few episodes of Big Bang Theory, tried to rest a bit, failed, and finally we arrived in Philadelphia.

I’d never before used an Admiral’s Lounge or any of the airline lounges. But for a 6 hour layover, it was a great idea. It was quiet at first, only a few business (mostly men) all working on their computers or phones. There was a live guacamole station, a hot and cold food bar, a drinks bar, soup, coffee, and free wifi. I did more editing, caught up more on tax returns, and sat in much more comfortable seats than would have been available outside.

Then, the final leg of my trip was uneventful. I retrieved my baggage, Patrick picked me up, and I drove home. But it was cold. Brrr! 25F was not what I was used to at this point!

All in all, I had a great time in Spain. It was a weird trip for me, since I wasn’t primarily a tourist, but on a scouting mission, so my normal urge to SEE ALL THE THINGS was severely tempered with practical stuff and I had to keep reminding myself to just enjoy being there, to soak in the culture and the lifestyle. But I think that will be much easier once I move there and have fewer things to do.