The way to Amarillo

In a spirit of enquiry, for my starter  I tried the local delicacy of stuffed potatoes last night. I wasn’t sure what to expect: a hollowed-out King Edward filled with beans perhaps? In fact, what arrived were a couple of parcels – a sort of cross between large ravioli and samosas, definitely fried or grilled at least. I assume the outer was made with potato or the flour thereof. The stuffing was some sort of unidentifiable pate / minced meat and they were very good, served with endives and a little pool of something. The main course was a Clydesdale-sized horseshoe of sausage surrounding a heap of suspiciously pale beans which didn’t have a lot going for them to be honest, but I did succeed in finding something filling. Xocolata sounds much more exciting than the English equivalent, but my profiteroles were fine.

I left the hotel, which had rather grown on me, at about 9:30 and the next mile or so was a brutal ascent up the flank of the valley: a real knee-trembler at times. At the back of my mind when fighting my way up a path like that is the knowledge coming down will be as bad.

Tony Christie has a lot to answer for: the days’ treks involve navigating by yellow markers on rocks, trees, fenceposts etc., so it’s hardly surprising that ‘Is this the way to Amarillo’ should come into my mind for a fleeting second, but quite unreasonable that it should dominate my brain in the way it did. I am at least grateful it wasn’t ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon’.

So I’m now back in the Hotel Sant Roc, Camprodon. Although I’ve no real concrete complaints, this is the least appealing of the hotels so far: it lacks the style and friendliness of the others. I think I’ll eat out tonight as I was less than impressed with my meal here the first time.

A bit later…

Camprodon is quite a nice wee town, several sizes up from the villages of the last few nights. It has its picturesque vistas: ancient bridges, quaint streets etc. It is also very easy to get lost in, specially when you’re wandering round in the hope of finding a restaurant that looks like it might be open. It’s currently about 7pm and I’m in the hotel lounge agreeing with the two remaining Aussies that there doesn’t seem to be much open. You’ll probably have to wait to tomorrow to find out.

Is this the way to Amarillo
Dumpty dumpty like a pillow…

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