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Vigo in Spain - If the last port of call was an acclimatisation stop, Vigo certainly proved a good follow on and provided good UK weather. Rain, rain and then more rain laced with cold wind and a hint of winter.
The rainbow when we arrived in port was beautiful but then so was the one we saw as we left Vigo. The other noticeable things were the seagulls, millions of them and the Graffiti, tons of it everywhere.
We got of the Ship and had decided not to take one of the tours, but rather to hoof it round the town -after all there was a castle on a hill and we were up for scaling great heights again. So off we went in the soggy rain, to the town. After about half an hour of wandering back and forwards along the sea front we decided to head up from the jetty and into the town proper. Twenty yards further and we spotted a tour group - Spanish or Portuguese we think from their language. We decided to follow them as they might know some hot spots and might make our day work out better. Their guide wandered up the
hill streets to a square and stopped, giving the group a talk about who knows what - not knowing Spanish we couldn’t understand a word she was saying. So seeing a church type building in the square, and thinking the architecture looked good from the outside and could possibly look good inside, we decided to go investigate. In we went through the big wooden doors and found ourselves in the middle of a service. It was Sunday after all and we should have worked out that on at least one day a week it would be being used for the purpose for which it was built, and not as a tourist attraction. We sheepishly sat down at the back and tried not to be too conspicuous, while we waited for a natural break in the service, to get out without disturbing the congregation. Again we didn’t understand a word the priest was saying, as he spoke in Spanish - strange thing to do in Spain!!. We think it was mass and as it was Easter so you’d think all of Spain would know what was happening at around ten am in churches all over Spain? Well apparently not. As we
sat there the doors burst open and in charged the tour group, leader holding up her follow me pole as if it was a sword, followed by a horde of very noisy tourists. Ten paces in they all stopped and looking sheepishly startled, started to either find seats or slowly back out into the rest of the tour group who hadn’t yet made it in through the doors, and consequently didn’t know quite what was happening inside. Chaos ensued and with withering looks from priest and congregation they made themselves scarce. It was at this point, just as the last were leaving that we hightailed it under cover of the tour group. Phew.
Ditching the tour group we set off to scale the hill and find the castle. Fort San Sebastian. We made it - or did we… The Fort was just a wall on the back of a municipal building and kind of lacked the splendour of some of the castles we had visited, mind you, it was free…
Another couple from the ship pointed to a castle much further up the hill… I said it was a restaurant at least that was what the ship’s port guide said.
After a bit of deliberation we decided to head on up the hill, to the restaurant, and maybe get a piece of cake and a nice view of the area.
Some time later we reached it - it was derelict and had suffered a fire. - no cake here.
We decided to walk round the side of the restaurant and, surprise, surprise there was a castle, grounds and all!!! Judi and I had come in through the back gate of the castle and even though it was raining we thoroughly enjoyed the views and the castle grounds.
Out through the front gates and into a small local café for the toilet. It was a bit manky so we got some liquid refreshment from the street vending machine. Then we headed down the hill towards the harbour. It didn’t take to long, the way down was on a slope not like the back which was practically like scaling a mountain. We wandered down through multi story flats and some more wealthy areas, and finally found ourselves back where we started. So, wet and foot sore we started looking for a local eatery. We found a street with lots of designer shops
and a C and A -where we took refuge from a particularly heavy rain shower. ….. Eventually we settled on a lovely small tapas place in a grand square lined with fruit bearing orange trees. Tapas, did I mention Tapas? Well that’s what the menu said…. What we got was a meal fit for ten kings. Salad bowl like a bucket, filled with everything you could imagine, eggs, tuna, chicken and every type of salad you could name. Tortilla the size of a dinner dish and an enormous steak sliced into” cook it yourself” slices. All this and a barbecue type table cooker to cook our steak…We decided to only eat a little then leave. After demolishing the steak, which was gorgeous, and most of the tortilla - the salad we didn’t even dent despite trying - we waddled out.. We had only popped in for a few little bowls of food to keep up our “ate locally in every port” record. With very full tummies we were now going to head off to the ship to get dressed for the last formal dinner and try and tuck into a four course meal… groan!!!!
We left the “Tapas” place and
headed back through the strangest shopping precinct - black walls floors and ceilings. Very unattractive. Perhaps it looked good in bright sunshine, but in this dank rain it looked out of place.
On board we headed for our cabin and balcony to wave goodbye to Vigo. A strange mixture of emotions on leaving - not helped with full tummies and trying to squeeze into our formal clothes.
Our last port and our last taste of foreign food and quirky places.
A rainbow and masses of seagulls escorted us out to the sea and from then we steamed on into the Bay of Biscay, Sea sick pills at the ready, and its wild seas, heading for Southampton and home.
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