Started early today but being Monday, the cafe bars open late but fortunately we found an old original one on the outskirts. As Corrie was ordering breakfast happily in Spanish now, I looked out to see a huge hedge surrounding an area the size of a small plaza. It called me to it so I went and found a Parador. For those who don’t know, a Parador is usually a former palace or monastery converted into a luxury hotel. I believe there are 94 in Spain.

Spain not only has ancient hotels, it is also a Roman bridge country, where they appear everywhere, and where there’s a bridge there’s a waterway and they have been a wonderful highlight of this Spanish section of the Portuguese camino. A place to rest, take photos, listen to the varied sounds of different waters (a tumble, a gurgle, an urgent rush, a gentle flow), see and hear the birds, find the best lunch venue you’ll find anywhere.

We started early to avoid the inevitable noise from excited groups of new walkers, to be far enough away from civilisation as I could to do my unattractive voice exercises (what a chance I missed with the Irish women), and because it’s our longest walk to date. 

A couple of hours of undulating valley walks through small vineyards and vegetable gardens amongst the other walkers (we were too late), before we started our long steepish and steep hill climb through forested areas, then similar slopes down the other side and along the side of another valley. Similar to yesterday, with both of us not at our very best, and steep hills and lots of kms, I wondered why the days appeared to go quickly.

I realised it was mostly about corners which prevented me from seeing too far ahead. I can get tired and feel a little overwhelmed on a long straight stretch because it looks so far and I am reminded of it all the time. But corners seem to focus my mind elsewhere – what’s there, and then that fulfils me until the next corner, and so on. Hills are similar, holding a certain intrigue with lots of bends and twists and mystery. Maybe it’s a little about life for me where I don’t want to see too far ahead, I just want to concentrate on the corners.

As we rounded one corner the Polish family grinned and waved when they saw us walking by which reminded me of the young Belgians, especially her with her tortured toe, I really hope it doesn’t stop their first walk. We left the Dutch couple behind for a rest day, and the Dutch girls are also taking time out. 

We walked over yet another Roman bridge, down a street where market day was closing down, and just around the corner was a small Roman bridge with a stone stair, four steps away from a tiny park caressed with a little creek and shaded by a willow. We soon found our hotel but had to pass tradesman renovating the entrance, loud machines and dust everywhere. Finally in our room we opened the balcony doors and peered round the corner – it was the small Roman bridge.