A rebel without a clue.

Venezuelan breakfast. Arepas, onions, cream cheese, yogurt, tomatoes and strong coffee. Off to finish my ablutions and walk due west for five more days. Into Salamanca on Christmas Eve. The rain has stopped and the birds are chirping in the Albergue yard. The wind from last night has abaited. The Venezuelan gentleman makes ice cream in Valencia, but here in Spain he is a gardener. Must be awful being a refugee in the cold Meseta? *** A guy at the bar said this weather was perculiar, even in winter, for this part of Spain. Cold, but dry, not windy, cold and wet like this. But it is wet and windy and I must endure four more days walking the tedious terrain with nothing to break up the day. Gosh and I'm carrying far too much stuff: I looked at my trousers, etc, this morning and questioned my reasoning... Far too many changes of underwear, shorts and at least three pairs of trousers: ok the waterproofs are necessary, but two pairs of shorts?!? It's constantly making the walking in ...

With mallet finger and something happening in my jaw: is it a wisdom tooth, abscess or just a result of too much air turbulence from two flights recently, here I am up in a Café, just away from the core of the city. Being here i am reminded of Cahor in some way, but there it was the river acting as a boundary looping around two thirds of the city, here it is the finest mediæval wall I know - and it's all the way round. How would all British cities look with them entire? York has a fair allowance of walls, and so does Canterbury (rebuilt in Victorian times?) But most bits and pieces I've seen in Newcastle, Exeter or London have to be sought out. I've been on an extensive perambulation and now, although it's a quarter before noon, I need a restorative beer and Racíones. The only place which has true beer and doesn't have a television on in the corner or music blaring out seems to be Cervercía La Barraca therefore I will stop there, before back to the Albergue for ...