The Picos and the Dogs

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(The little puppy at our hotel rural)

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(Tate’s dog in Bilbao, called Koa )

We’re having a quiet day today. Denis is working quietly. I’m writing quietly. The internet is very quiet, not working!  May not be able to post this, shock, horror!

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(the sheep as viewed from our bedroom)

The bells I heard yesterday are around the necks of the sheep in the field behind our hotel. They chew grass constantly (which shakes the bell and makes it ring), until it started to get dark and then they began to “baa”. Then everything went quiet until early in the morning when the bells started again. Since we had the window closed tightly it didn’t disturb us.

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(Doesn’t it look like Ireland?)

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(Ireland? Spain?)

We went into the bar of the hotel last night for our tapas and there was a group of men playing cards. You could have been in any village pub in Ireland. Everyone turned to look when we came in and then the Hola’s started and then they went back to the cards. Our bar man had no English but was very helpful in finding a menu we could point at as even our little bit of Spanish is useless here, there seems to be a different pronunciation . We picked randomly not knowing what we might get. It seemed to be working fine for us until my choice had a further choice – no idea in the world what either meant. But he was not beaten, he went off behind the bar and brought back two types of dried meat and I choose one. This afternoon he happened to be in the bar when we were getting lunch and when the receptionist/lunch/bar lady could not understand our sandwich choice he found the pointing menu for us again. It really does take particular skills to be able to communicate and get your message across without words and I have to admit until this man I thought these skills were more likely to be found in a woman.

 

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(These little sheds are all around this area – our best guess is that they are (or were) for grain storage. You might just be able to make out on top of the stilts are flat cap stones – to prevent rats getting up the stilts to the grain? This one had a key in the door, so maybe someone is living in it.)

But as far as communication is concerned things may be looking up for us. A couple of Canadians (wave, wave Graham & Doris and Doug & Fiona!) arrived and they can speak Spanish! And they don’t seem to have a problem with pronunciation. Already they passed on a message about our key! They have come to the Picos to experience an early spring and to do some hiking. Although they had only got here before lunch they went off out hiking straight after. We would go ourselves only there was no room on the bike to pack hiking boots (and these Picos are vertical!).

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(Picos, straight up.)

We’re going to Oveido tomorrow, I discovered there’s a church with frescos and it has the same name as the church with the wall murals in Jaca. The name, you may remember was the church of Saints Julian and Basilia? I found out they were married monks who were martyred, way back in the 2nd or 3rd century. Anyway, I want to find out what the connection is between these two churches with the same names and pre-romanesque wall murals. And since they tell a story, are they connected to the Bayeaux Tapestries that also tell a story through drawings in thread and are dated around the same time?

So it looks like I can do planning too!

 

See you in Ovieda, Mairead.

 

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2 Responses to The Picos and the Dogs

  1. Typical bloody Canadians, can’t go anywhere without their hiking boots! I’m surprised they didn’t try to slip some maple syrup into your coffee Mairead(oh, that might be good!)
    Loving your road trip,
    Fiona

  2. Mairead says:

    Thanks Fiona, don’t say a bad word about our Canadian friends, only for their Spanish we might have starved! If I’d known they were carrying maple syrup too, we could have had desert!

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