Well, here you have it. A fateful moment. It could happen to anyone I suppose. I lock my suitcase into the apartment and the key is on the table inside and we miss our bus to France. The word that comes out of my mouth has been translated into Spanish here.
We all know that all’s well that ends well and Virginia drives us to the fairytale village of Besalu with its drawbridge and cobblestone streets and shops and tea rooms with views of the river and we walk around enchanted until night falls and we eat dinner by candlelight in the plaza of the 12th century church. We spend the night in Virginia’s apartment by the Dali museum, happy to have had another day in Spain.
So this really is the last day in Spain, and day 7 of my travels there. On the British Air flight to Europe we were given sandwich boxes with the word “Enjoy” cut out. It is now time to glue it into the book to set expectations for the next leg of the journey.