Another rainy night and another late start. A walk through town and beautiful gardens. We spend some time on the internet trying to book a car as our train doesn't go to Salamanca but the booking doesn't quite work so we head off to the train and will try our luck when we get to Zamora.
The countryside is beautiful and as we sit and relax, Alma walks down the isle. We knew they were headed for Madrid but had no idea it was the same train – spooky.
We expect a 2 hour trip to Zamora but upon examining our tickets with glasses on it turns out we will not get in until 6.45pm. Time to crack that red that I have in my pack and settle down to mountains, ancient stone walls , bridges and vast open plains that glow pale yellow under a dark sky pregnant with expectation. It is a landscape that might be taken from an image library with an Australian theme and the poignancy of the moment is not lost. Far from home and missing the kids. The glow fades to sleet grey and rain as we alight in Zamora. Another town that looks drab and uninviting from the outskirts. A taxi to Plaza Mayor brings the old part of the city into view and as with many other small towns the ancient walls and stone iglesias and cathedral, with 12th century origins, are inviting and we set off under our heavy loads to find accommodation. Zamora was once the western ( or Portugese) frontier of Castillo y Leon, sitting on the Rio Duerdo just 50kms from the border.
Hostal la Sol is tidy and dinner is hearty but not exceptional.
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