When I first started learning Spanish in 1968, my Collins ‘Gem’ dictionary included the useful phrase ‘hacer ciaboga: to make a quick turn round (in a rowing boat)’. Surprisingly, I’ve never had occasion to use it and I missed my big moment today. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Last night’s meal was probably the cheapest of the trip (bar the cuckoo sandwich):it was definitely the best. I ate with the Ozzies and we all agreed. I had Gazpacho with strawberries, lamb (I like lamb!) and giant profiterols (I like them too), but plan to vary things tonight. The son (about 40) of the family is a really nice guy with a clear love of the food he and his father cook in this stylish hotel and he talked well in English, going into lots of detail about each option on the menu. I’ll plug the hotel here: Els Caçadors in Ribes de Freser https://www.hotelsderibes.com/ though I should mention two of the Oz folk apparently have an inferior room.
The rack railway up to Núria was interesting, affording some good views. Núria was once a monastery and there is still a religious presence in the form of a sanctuary. It is now an all year round resort with a posh-looking hotel: skitows, gondolas, pistes etc. for the winter months and lake, walks, gondola, play areas, horse-riding, camping etc. for the summer. The lake was attractive and I circumnavigated it on foot: if only I’d hired one of their rowing boats…
I took the gondola up to the next level and wandered around, admiring the views, and strolled along the paths, but didn’t walk far and later on returned by the same route.
Not a very inspiring blog today, I regret. And sorry about lack of photos: transferring from phone to Kindle (I seem to have to do it via Dropbox) and then finding them to upload to WordPress is just too much time wasted. I’d be better off peeling grapes.
I decided to have a go with the whirlpool spa bath: it wasn’t an unqualified success. The bath took both a lot of water and a lot of time to reach the nozzles and i should really have waited until the water level was even higher. There seemed to be some sort of light show at the feet end, but the force of the jets sent water everywhere, one jet seeming a bit loose in its mountings and behaving like a cartoon hose-cum-snake. I had to press buttons wildy to make it stop. I think I know where the slight damp smell comes from, though.
Tomorrow I start home: train from here at 0944, get off at Barcelona’s Plaça de Catalunya, catch shuttle bus to airport, display bus ticket on mobile phone (!), hang around for a few hours, fly to Gatwick, cool my heels for some hours, catch flight to Inverness, arriving at 2205. Like clockwork, with any luck. Might manage an update at LGW.
Why am I getting nuisance phone calls apparently from Mid Yell? It certainly didn’t sound like a typical Mid Yell accent! There must, at the very least, be some way of stopping this spoofing of phone numbers.
Anyway, must go and join Bruce & Sheila and Bruce & Sheila for the evening meal. Casual racism’s OK when it’s Australians isn’t it? (For the sake of veeracity, I should say that one of the Ozzies was actually born in France and is called ‘Bertrand’.)