We reluctantly said goodbye to our luxurious hotel in Béjar, where they put on an early breakfast for us, and hit the road southbound. There's a long climb out of Béjar but we were fresh and rested, summitting at Puerta de Béjar, perhaps the best place on earth, a beautiful little hilltop village with amazing views over an endless plain (no rain) bordered by mountains. We coasted downhill for miles onto the valley floor and carried on south. We were paralleling the Via de la Plata, part of the Camino de Santiago, and often came upon the trail and even met the occasional peligrino (pilgrams). We stopped in Guijuelo, not the best place on earth, especially if you're a pig. Its the pig slaughtering capital of Spain, with dozens of ham processing plants and a stream of livestock trucks arriving around the clock with ever more mystified porkers. Everywhere were haunches of ham, selling for about $50 Can. Its sad, but delicious.
We pressed on to Plasencia, with narrow little streets filled with little old ladies stepping in front of Ross from his blind side. We had a paella lunch in the square, and pressed on in the heat of the day with only mad dogs and englishmen for company. Its near desert type country, with nothing in the way of villages for miles. By 4:30 we were out of water and Daryl's GPS was reading 99.1'F and no shade. We stopped at a roadside bar which had some beds upstairs but no airconditioning and pretty basic, but tempting nonetheless. We met a young fellow driving north and asked him what lay south. Sancho was watching out for us at that point, this fellow's Dad owned a Casa Rural (small hotel) in Cánaveral, 20km's further south. We saddled up and pressed on, well rehydrated with water bottles replenished, and made it by 6:00. The hotel was deserted but the bar next door phoned and Dad showed up to check us in. We basically rented the hotel for 120EUs. He gave us the front door key. We collapsed in the living room, 102 kms that day. Daryl was disappointed he couldnt get a reading over 100'F. We showered up and wandered through the town's narrow little streets with its ubiquitous bars every block or two, and found a restaurant about to open at 8:00 (spanish 8 ie: 8:35). The menu was what he was cooking, a pork stew or pan fried trout, both with french fries, but big tasty fresh salads which we all were craving. A diet of steady tapas is lacking in anything green. By 10:30 we were all in bed.
The next morning was to be an early start to miss the heat, but Ross missed the memo. Grady and Laurie wandered around and found the only open bar filled with quiet sleepy truckers hunched over their cafe con leches. No matter what type of coffee Laurie ordered we got long expressos, so filled them with sugar and forced them down, immediately followed by heart palpitations. Four more para llevar (to carry) and back to our hotel where we finally kicked Ross out of bed. Our early start began at 8:30 and by 10:30 Daryl's whinging about lack of breakfast forced us into a truck stop for a breakfast of fried eggs, ham, roasted bell peppers and french fries, orange juice, toast and coffee. Back on the bikes with the added weight and by noon we were in the Plaza at Cáceres. The Zona Monumentales is amazing. Its in a walled section on the hilltop, cobbled narrow alleys, and muy antigua. Jews, Muslims and Christians all shared the city between periodic bouts of slaughtering each other. The Plaza Mayor outside the walls is huge, and we watched as they flooded it for its daily wash. We touristed it for a while before heading off on an adventurous ride around the city with Laurie and a clearly erroneously drafted map in the lead. Eventually we found our way back into the City with Ross, Grady and Daryl all shouting incomprehensible contradictory impossible instructions to Laurie at every intersection. After an unpleasant encounter with two local policia, something about one way streets, we found the train station and jumped the 7:00 PM train to Mérida, where, after an unpleasant encounter with a train guard at the station, something about jumping the tracks with bicycles, we road into the town center.
We periodically stopped locals for hotel instruction and after checking out two unsuitable suggestions, we bumped into Josa outside a bar waiting for her Thursday night get together of spanish locals learning english. They meet every Thursday where they converse in english, no spanish allowed. Josa suggested the Nova Roma Hotel, guiding us half way there, and invited us back to the bar to talk english. Quick showers and we were at a table of locals in the bar, all doing our bios in english and talking politics, economics, children and jobs. Grady and Laurie talked spanish and were answered in english. Bed at 1:30 AM and up this morning to explore the Roman Ruins, all over town.
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