It was such a long way into Logrono and then it was kilometres of city streets. I think 30 kilometres in a day seemed far to much for my feet. I was staying in a different hotel to Paul and Fiona but as I waited like a limp prawn at the reception desk, there were hoots and screams from the restaurant. There was a wedding…how lovely but I needed a bath and some food.
No, the restaurant was closed I was told by the meticulously coiffured male receptionist. I was mortified….and the bar was closed and the heavens opened. I mean it was a storm like nothing else… a real deluge. There was nothing for it but to bathe and get out. Flip flops didn’t work on the tiled pavements and if I had possessed any attractiveness in the past it had now well and truly left me. I resembled Mother Theresa on a bad day with out her holiness. The two minute walk was 10 and I was still in no man’s land in a back city street. A young couple jumped out of a taxi in the pouring rain so I jumped in.
“Any restaurant will do close to here” I said. I tried not to sound desperate.
The pain in my feet and my swelling toes was the worst I had experienced so far and Logrono offered no respite or joy. It seemed as though the town was out for a Saturday night revel and us travellers were just in the way. I decided to grab a taxi back and sleep till I woke. That’s what I thought, but my 2 favourite people texted to say that it was another long day tomorrow so how about skipping breakfast and setting off about 6am.
Well, how could I refuse, alone in this revelling city with miles of streets to cover…I was happy to say ‘yes’. The partying never stopped..it went on ….