The town square was deserted but for us, a couple at a table nearby, and our end of day, long cogitated upon glasses of wine. Fluffy white spores from cotton wood poplars drifted across the quiet square like snow as the long evening sun and soft wines worked their magic on our well-walked bodies.
We watched the metamorphosis from ghost town to vibrant Friday evening promenading as doors crept open and people poored out into the square; kids on bikes, kids playing soccer, mums and dads, dogs and young couples, all come out to mingle and enjoy the evening.
We wound our way through some narrow lanes, through the large Archo de San Benito (Arch of Saint Benedict), constructed in 1660, the remains of the southern facade of the former Benedictine Royal Monastery of San Benito, and finally to the restaurant recommended by our hotel host.
It’s all locals. A short stout man in a dark puffer and trousers, with a brown leather satchel, John Lennon sunglasses and a dog, either welcomes us warmly or takes the piss, we’re not sure which but wink at the barman nonethelessless and grab a couple of wines. The meal was sensational and for fourteen euro a head including a bottle of wine, outstanding value. It was a lovely relaxed end to the day (very relaxed) and we wobbled into our hostel sometime after 1am.
what of the walk? It was cold, warmed only by our friendly conversation with French couple Phillipe and Isabella, ‘ah, ma cheri!’ Phillipe would say as he held Isabella close. We’d walked with them in the mist some days earlier and it was nice to reconnect.
We found Spanish Hobbiton complete with goblin cave underneath and got broadsided by an afternoon thunderstorm that plummeted the air temperature and landed flecks of sleet and ice on our ponchos. The distant buildings of Sahagun were a welcome sight.
