Salamanca
Yesterday didn't go very smoothly I'm afraid. It started well with a comfortable hours' train ride to Salamanca. We took a taxi to the hotel but the receptionist informed us with a sad face that our booking had been cancelled. He was right. Quite often when I'm planning, I change hotels when I spot something more attractive. I then amend my TripIt itinerary. This particular change got lost somewhere along the line and remained in the itinerary instead being replaced by the new booking. I realised immediately that I had stuffed up and located the correct booking on my phone. We called a taxi and set off for the new venue, an appartment seconds away from the magnificent Plaza Maior in the centre of Salamanca.
The taxi dropped us on the pavement and sped off and I rang the key holder as per the booking instructions. However, I had also managed to stuff this up. The appartment owners had sent me an E mail telling me to collect the key from their office rather than go to the appartment. I had missed this as it was not information contained in confirmation of booking but sent separately. However, it wasn't that bad as the office was apparently a five minute walk away according to the lady I spoke to on the phone. I clicked on the address on the E mail so that it came up on Google maps. It seemed odd that the address had been replaced with the name of an institution but assumed it was just Google being clever and associating the address with the organisation housed there. However there was bad news. It wasn't five minutes walk away but more like 20 minutes. A pedestrian street would take us most of the way so it seemed easier than taking a taxi which seemed thin in the ground.
I trudged up the street pulling the case wearing my backpack and balancing Gill's hand luggage on the large case. The street was paved with old stone which made pulling the case on its tiny wheels an interesting experience. We finally arrived at our destination and I looked around for number nine. There was not only no number nine but when I expanded the map of the tiny street I realised we weren't even on the right street. I clicked on the address again and, for a second time, Google plonked it's red pin exactly where I was standing. How could this be? I decided to try once more but this time I entered the address by hand. To my surprise, the red pin landed on a spot which was, indeed, five minutes from where we had started. There was no choice but to trudge all the way back. The whole process had taken the best part of an hour. It was now midday and we couldn't check in to the appartment till 4 pm. We left our bags at the office and grabbed some lunch.
Afterwards we went to the tourist office and spotted a poster for an Art Deco/ Art Nouveau museum, Casa Lys. That was our afternoon itinerary settled! The museum was one of the best I have been in. As you entered There was an astonishing glass ceiling. There were magnificent examples of art and furniture but the most wonderful pieces were the sculptures. They were displayed in dark cases with dramatic lighting and seemed to radiate energy and verve.
When we emerged from the museum there was a howling icy gale blowing rain into our faces. We went to collect our bags and settled ourselves into our appartment. We were pretty tired by about 7 pm and went in the hunt for food. Most restaurants don't open till about 8 pm and we made the fatal mistake of settling on a local restaurant with a fixed price menu which seemed reasonable. It is genuinely no hyperbole to say that this was the worst meal we have ever eaten in 40 years of travel. My Paella had dry crusty rice and inedible microscopic shrimps. Gills Lasagne was not even lukewarm and could have been breeding all sorts of bacterial matter. The main course was even worse. We had opted for chicken on the basis that it's a safe bet in most circumstances. It was appalling. It had the texture of meat that had been over cooked and then forgotten in the fridge for a couple of weeks to be taken out and microwaved. Gills chicken leg had meat that resisted stabbing with a knife and which I was able to hit with my fork so that it bounced off the perfectly hard meat. We called the waiter, showed him the meat and my phone screen where I got Google Translate to write "inedible" in bright blue letters. His face was impassive but he did offer to get us a replacement chicken dish. We refused and fled.
I'm writing this in the dark at 6 am with Gill fast asleep in the bedroom. She had a terrible sleepless night. Usually we cope with jet lag by carefully dosing with sleeping pills. However, Gill picked up the wrong bottle in Nelson and we don't have any more pills. She was awake quite a bit over the last three nights so I am hoping she can sleep in and catch up a bit this morning. Today we will visit Salamanca Cathedral and the 800 year old University. That should lift our spirits!
This morning we had a late start as Gill had a lie in to recover some sleep time. We had breakfast at a cafe in the Plaza Maior and then set off to explore the cathedral which lived up to expectations. The whole cathedral complex is massive as there is a new and old cathedral as well as several chapels and a chapter house and cloisters. The fascade of the cathedral was restored several decades ago and the stone mason asked permission to include carvings representing the modern age. With extraordinary vision the authorities agreed and if you look carefully you can see an astronaut among the elaborate stone work. We spent all morning exploring and then went back to the square for a lunch of wine and tapas. We have decided to eat mainly at lunch as we are too tired in the evenings and we don't want to wait to eat till 8pm. Salamanca has two universities one of which is 800 years old. There are about 40,000 students so it's a bustling city and very young in feel. There doesn't seem to be a large number of tourists but it's the off season. However it seems to be school outing season so there are lots of school children going around trying to look interested in ancient buildings.
We feel a bit more restored after taking yesterday afternoon off for siesta time. We have a very comfortable warm appartment right in the centre of the old town by the main square. We wandered into the Plaza Mayor last night at around 9 pm and it was teeming with people chatting in groups and enjoying the evening. It's pretty cold here but I reassure Gill it's probably four times as cold in Finland. I have been wearing in my new fur trapper's hat but Gill doesn't seem to like being seen with me when I put it on. I have no idea why as it's probably the best hat I have ever owned. And it keeps my head toasty warm which is its main purpose.
The hat has a serious pedigree and should really be called by its proper name an Ushanka. It is associated with Slavic Baltic counries and Scandinavia. Its effectiveness is such that it is credited with helping the Finns repulse the Russians in the second world war. The Russian headgear was not doing the job and the poor Russians suffered from the terrible cold. Needless to say the Russians upped their game and their Ushankas are now second to none. Wikipedia unearthed a little nugget of information which I love. The main feature of the Ushanka is, of course , the ear flaps which can be worn up or down. To this day apparently the standing orders read at Reveille in the Russian army mandate whether the flaps are to be raised or lowered. The soldiers have no choice. I hope that story is true as it tells you an awful lot about the Russians.
The whole of the old town is free of cars so it's delightful to wander about and just explore at random. There are plenty of organised walking tours but I can't really see myself with an earpiece that looks like a hearing aid, being herded like a flock of sheep listening to a heavily accented commentary full of names and dates that I will instantly forget. Instead, we just wander into churches and drink in the atmosphere. The art is exuberant, over-the-top rococo Catholic crucifixion /Mary worship style. Lots of gold embellishment, chubby angels and idealised sculptures of the virgin. Last night, as we walked to the square, worshippers were streaming out from mass in the Catholic University church. We dipped inside. The altar was ablaze with candles and the atmosphere foggy with incense. The smell brought me back to my childhood in Dublin when I would attend Benediction and the rich, heavy narcotic smell of the incense would fill my nostrils. There was a soaring cupola and the smoke of the incense lay in a small cloud high above my head.
This morning we wandered around the central market building with its dazzling array of wet fish and pig in multifarious forms. There were whole chiller displays with little baby pigs piled on top of one another waiting for their purchasers to arrive. The natives of Castille and Leon seem to be extremely committed carnivores. I haven't seen a vegetable shop yet.