Okay, so this is a bit of a long post about a very long day ...!
Today involves a long drive east towards Madrid. We will stop somewhere en route overnight, but we are not sure where. Brett wants to divert to a village up in the hills but it means quite a detour. Despite the village having some appeal, I am not too enthusiastic as it is still a long way from Madrid and will leave us a reasonably lengthy drive tomorrow. Thank goodness, after some debate, my common sense eventually got met with common sense and we decide, sensibly, to abandon that idea. We make as much headway as we can and will just make a call en route about where to bunk down for the night. First hurdle successfully cleared.
Before we set off on our long drive we make the most of the morning exploring more of Aveiro. Breakfast at the hotel is a busy affair, there are a lot of guests. It is a good kickstart to the day, with a host of offerings from the buffet. We venture to the fish market to have a look but it is already winding up. I couldn't call us late, but fish markets are notoriously early and don't match my timeclock!
We go to the cathedral which is very lovely. We go to the Post Office to purchase a toll ticket as we have learnt that this is how payment for electronic tolls can be made. Buy your ticket and text the code and car reg to a number. We do this but get no confirmation text back so we have no idea whether it has solved things or not. We seem destined to remain off the radar. Or on it, as the case may be. Oh well, we have done our best, our integrity to the fore, even if it may be to no avail.
The little streets and lanes of the town have netting "roofs" from which hang brightly coloured hand-knitted and crocheted fish and sea creatures of all descriptions, from one side of the road to the other, from one end of the lane to the other. It's cute and a nice light-hearted touch. Underfoot are attractive tiled cobbles in tones of charcoal and off-white.
Before we check out, we check back to see if the little art nouveau museum is open but alas it appears to be closed on Saturdays. Strange, in a tourist town. The town has been quiet this morning as we've wandered about, but has now slowly come to life. The busker is there again on the bridge with his sax, the students are staggering from slumber to tout and banter with tourists, and the canal is becoming its usual hive of colour and activity.
At 12.30, with Brett at the wheel, we hit the road, passing the local football stadium on the outskirts of town. It looks like a cross between a UFO, a frisbee and a colourful children's toy. Built in 2004, it can take more than 30,000 people.
The drive east across Portugal on the toll road is without drama. There is a proper border control where you cross into Spain. A quick bite might be good so we stop and go into the cafe on the Portuguese side. It is the oddest place, gloomy and soulless, like something left over from the Communist years of Eastern Europe. Which doesn't, of course, make sense, here in the very western part of Europe.
We have to take a ticket upon entry, and go through a turnstile. People are sitting at various tables looking downright forlorn. One part of the place looks like full (and oh-so-dreary) dining, which we so don't want. The cabinet food looks like it was around in East Berlin in the '80s before The Wall came down. None of it is appetising, everyone is staring at us, and the air is charged with an unpleasant malaise and disdain for life in general.
I look in the drinks cabinets for a coke but there are only thick syrupy juices on display. No thanks. There is simply nothing here we want, but leaving without purchasing feels like it might be cause for arrest. I want to take a photo just to make sure I am not imagining this, but the thought is fleeting, that would attract far too much attention and might be a tipping point for the people here I think. They might call the gendarmes just for something to do. Who are they? Where do they come from? Where are they going? One can only assume they are en route on the road like us, between lovely Portugal and fabulous Spain - but I do wonder if we are in some bizarre warp of time and place.
We use the loo, ask if they coke which they do - a bottle is surreptitiously presented to us from behind the counter like a forbidden fruit. Why isn't it in the drinks fridge like normal cafe stops!? We go to the exit counter with our ticket and coke, pay and leave as fast as we can. It's an austere and strange experience and we are at a loss as to explain why the place is so utterly odd and decidedly unsettling.
With some relief we hop back in the car and drive through the border gates but, despite the official looking buildings, gates and signs for Customs and whatnot, no one seems to be caring whether we are coming or going. Farewell Portugal - you were a joy to experience, even if there were a few hiccups along the way.
On the Spanish side of the border there are a few cafes with much better street appeal, but the coke will suffice for the time being. We press on along the fabulous roads, making good progress and covering off distance as we hurtle along.
We are in need of petrol so we exit the Autovia at the town of Penaranda. It is 4 o'clock. It's a quaint and sleepy place and we wonder about perhaps stopping here for the night. There are a few hotels but it doesn't look highly exciting so perhaps not. We have a bite to eat and a beer at a little old cafe to work out what might be best. The loo is down a beautifully tiled wrought iron spiral staircase down which I take care not to fall. We are in Serano ham territory and the little sandwiches are very good. While we munch, we Google our options. There are not a whole heap of places between here and Madrid. We decide to stop in Avila, a town with a large intact medieval wall surrounding it which sounds interesting.
I hop in the driver's seat and we set off again. We approach Avila around 5.30pm ... Perfect, we can soon settle in and get a wine along with our bearings. Only problem is, we are not the only ones with Avila in our sights. As the town comes into view we are overawed with the sight of the wall. It is so much more massive than we had envisaged. We are talking gi-bloody-normous. t's a sight to behold from this perspective so we pull off the road, which is a tricky thing as there are tour buses, cars and people everywhere, clamouring for a view. Families, kids, tourists. It's mayhem but we manage to squeeze off the road and get a park for some photos.
We are not actually in the town at this point, but above it looking down upon it. The town is also bigger than we envisaged - nestled into the gently sloping hill, surrounded by the huge wall, and topped with the beginning of dusk, the view is awesome. Just to the left of the town there is a big festival of some kind going on ... Fairground rides, lights, crowds and a bit of fun being had by the look of things. Hmmmm, it's Saturday. And all much much much busier than we anticipated.
Connie takes us into town. It is not an easy drive on the narrow streets and we can't work out how to get in the gates of the old town, through the wall, if, in fact, vehicles are allowed. We can't find a park. We can't spot any hotels. We are forced by sheer traffic volume to just keep on driving.
We agree to abandon plans of staying here, and keep on driving right out of that town. That was all too hard for wine o'clock time. We will carry on and see if we can find some nice little place a little further on. If not, we will head for Segovia, which is slightly off route but it sounds nice and we are running out of options.
We pass a few small villages but they don't look like they are big enough to have a guest house of any kind. A little further on we see a town signposted Villacastin. It sounds promising, and looks big enough to have a hotel, so we exit the motorway and follow the signs. It has some appeal as we drive in, but there doesn't seem to be a soul around. It is like a ghost village. Hello ... Does anybody live here?
The roads are narrow and Connie is not quite sure how or where to navigate us. Seems she is very confused as she takes up a loop the loop, so we decide to park (not a problem here!) and walk - and hopefully find. In the little square there is a bunch of youths enjoying a drink, spilling out of the local bar. Their banter reminds us of our boys enjoying a Saturday night bevvie with their mates.
We ask them about accommodation and they point us around the corner towards another bar. These lads don't speak English and I can't understand an inkling of their Spanish, but we gather that there may be a room above the other bar. We go and investigate although I am getting very cold feet about staying in this place, even if there is a room at the inn. Which there is bound to be on account of this being a type of ghost town.
The guy in the other bar is wizened and toothless, sitting doing nothing. He speaks no English. Communication is pointless, he has no idea what we are wanting even via our attempts at charades. This is, methinks, a very good thing because at this point I want to get the hell out of this town, not stay the night in it! I smile at him nicely, wave my arms and shrug my shoulders as if to say "not to worry", and we hotfoot it out of there back to the car.
We leave Villacastin with a sense of relief and drive onwards to Segovia, known for its Roman aqueduct and Cathedral.
The drive across the plains is beautiful as twilight arrives. There is barely another car on the road. The sky is a slurry of blue and white and gold and rose pink, wisps of cloud drifting across it. We pass small villages that twinkle into evening life. It is like a lovely landscape painting coming to life. Some of the villages look quite nice but we can't risk another Villacastin moment, we don't have the luxury of time to waste, night is approaching fast.
Suddenly, in one of those magical moments of unexpected glory, we round a bend and there is the most beautiful sight - the huge medieval fortress called Alcazar, glittering beneath that evening sky. Its shapely silhouette looms from the plains with a grandeur that takes my breath away. The lighting is perfection, with the castle's gold luminescence contrasted against the beautiful natural backdrop of nightfall. I don't want to take my eyes off it - but I must keep my eyes on the road.
Connie guides us into town, along a major street, where we spot a hotel which looks 5-star, a bit OTT for one short night. We drive on by, following Connie's instructions to the town centre. The traffic is heavy but I negotiate it okay while Brett has his eyes peeled for hotels. There don't seem to be any. Where are they? This town is quite big, bigger than we thought. We drive right through town and it is dark now.
Just when we think we must be about to head out of town again, we round a corner and there is another moment of unexpected glory. A double dose, actually. The aqueduct is right there in front of us, lit up and splendid, another grand sight to behold. And right there on the left is a big hotel. This will do nicely. There is nowhere to pull over but I must and so I do, right up onto the footpath opposite. There is no curb, just a very wide footpath and plenty of room for a car, especially one with a couple of tourists desperate to organise a bed for the night.
I wait in the car, the glorious spectacle of the aqueduct straight ahead, while Brett runs in to check out a room. I take photos while I wait. I get out of the car and take more photos. Other people pull onto the pavement and take photos. A policeman pulls up next to me on his motorbike and is yelling at me, telling me off. I know it is for stopping on the pavement, capturing the best - and obviously forbidden - vantage point but I act all "who me?" ignorant.
I hop back in the car quick and he comes right on up to me to give me a grilling and move me on. I can't drive off with Brett still in the hotel. I point wildly and say we are trying to find a hotel. He tells me off some more, and then Brett arrives back and starts taking photos! The cop tells him off. Even more people follow my lead and park on the pavement and the cop doesn't know who to tell off next. Brett hops in the car and we move immediately away from the ensuing drama. I figure we can do a loop and find a suitable parking spot before checking in.
Alas, Brett bears bad news - they only have a single room. What? A huge hotel like that? This does not bode well. Hmmm, I guess it is Saturday night. And it's 8 o'clock. Oh well, we have managed to get some superb photos of the aqueduct while causing chaos in our wake.
With no choice but to drive on and with Connie having done her job to take us to the centre of town, we don't quite know where to go next. I just keep driving. We are on a main road that seems to be never-ending, and what's more, it seems to be taking us out of town or in a circle, I've no idea. There are no hotels in sight. Oh good grief. This all seems to be going from bad to worse. I turn into a side road and pull over so we can work out what to do next. I suggest we need to do some googling and ringing, Brett's 'rock up and get a room' philosophy is not going so well today. Tonight. And he is getting ratty. I look up some hotels on my phone and he gets ringing on his. We have the added complication of needing parking too, important given it is a busy Saturday night.
No, sorry, we are fully booked.
We only have one room available. [And it is WAY out of our budget]
Sorry, nothing available.
Not tonight, sir, sorry.
I'm sorry, we have nothing this evening.
At this point - it is getting on for 9pm - it looks like we will be sleeping in the car tonight. After 8 hours on the road? Spare me, please. I remain calm. Brett is getting more ratty. We have a breather and contemplate a night in the car. No way. We could drive on to Madrid - it's about another hour away, but our hotel there is booked from tomorrow night. Besides, we're just too tired to drive on. Brett tries one more option.
Let me see, yes, sir, we have one room available.
Yessss. At this point we will pay almost anything. Almost.
What is the rate, Brett asks.
€90
And do you have parking?
Yes we have private parking for €15.
It is more than we budgeted for, but not scandalous, and less than the other hotel which had a room. And we have quite simply run out of options.
We'll take it.
Phew. Impending crisis averted.
We get instructions on how to get to this hotel ... It is on the other side of town. No worries, we'll find it. We are on our way.
When we approach the hotel, we realise that it is the very first one we had spied coming into town almost two hours earlier! Hotel Los Arcos. It is 5-star and the location, now we know the town a little better, looks good. If only we'd stopped the first time ...
We park in the private underground car park and only take up with us our overnight necessities (which includes a bottle of wine!). We check in and get the keycard for our room on the fifth floor. I notice that we are guided to a separate lift to the rest of the hotel. We go to top floor. Our room is down the corridor at the far end. With some broad hotel experience under my belt, I get the distinct feeling we are on our way to a suite, not a room. This whole journey from the lobby smells of suite. I say nothing, just in case my hunch is wrong but, as we near the door and I scope the general hotel layout, I am pretty sure I am right.
Open Sesame and ... Yes, this is indeed a beautiful, huge, massive, wonderful suite!!! The sitting room is huge, the bedroom is huge, the bathroom is huge. Worth every bit of 90 Euro ... And probably, actually, a whole heap more. Definitely better than a car! What a shame we are here for such a short time. We float about and stretch and lounge and wallow and laugh at our eventual luck. It's been a long day. We are hungry and the hotel has an excellent restaurant.
Damn, says Brett, that rugby game will be about to start. (We had pretty much resigned ourselves to missing the big Australia versus England RWC pool match, wherever we ended up and, as the night had progressed - badly - our chances of finding a bar had slimmed to nil). For too long we had been gripped in survival bed-finding mode rather than frivolous bar-finding mode!
Hang on, I say. We have two TVs here. We are in the suite of a 5-star hotel. There must be an international sports channel that is showing it.
I fiddle with the remote and ... Voila ... green and white jerseys streak across the screen. Food can wait. We have wine and comfort, and now rugby too. We kick back, pour the vino and settle in to watch England's agonising loss, our own agonies having faded into oblivion.
It is just after 11pm when we head down for dinner, me having assured Brett that this is Spain, of course restaurants will be open at this hour. Uh-oh. The hotel restaurant has just closed. No matter, the nice lady on the desk points us towards the Aqueduct, there are many restaurants around there. It is only a five minute walk.
We walk, we turn a corner and, suddenly, in another moment of glory, there it is again, from a close-up angle this time, right above us - the Aqueduct.
Most eateries look like they are mainly serving drinks and winding up for the night, but tucked away right next to the Aqueduct is a busy Italian place. It looks great. Noticing we are foreigners, the waitress points out this is an Italian restaurant, not Spanish. That's fine, we assure her. We haven't had Italian food for weeks and it appeals quite a lot actually. Brett orders pizza. My homemade ravioli with a cheese and walnut sauce is delicious. It even feels like we could be in Italy with this backdrop.
We drift off to luxurious sleep, eager to explore Segovia in the morning, especially the castle Alcazar that we had seen lit up like a fairytale as we approached town. We are certainly glad our day had a happy ending worthy of a good fairytale!
Observation of the Day: To think we could have ended up in a lumpy bed in a pokey room above a gloomy bar in Villacastin with a bunch of rowdy youths partying below and little else to see or experience. Patience and perseverance paid off today. Luck shone down, somehow gifting us a sumptuous suite in the gorgeous city of Segovia! And a fantastic meal too.
