I sometimes wonder how business is done in Spain. Last night and this morning, I spent at least an hour trying to get in touch with 3 dog kennels near Salamanca, so I could board Ryan for the next 4 nights. I won’t bore you with the details but I failed to get through on both the fixed and mobile lines and never got a reply to my emails. Mind you, I was trying before 10 this morning. You may ask why I left things so late but, hey, this is Spain and some of it rubs off.
Actually, one of the places eventually called me on my mobile at 11 and made up for the inefficiency of last night and this morning by advising me they wouldn’t take Ryan as his jabs weren’t bang up to-date. Which is just the sort of law-abidingness and efficiency I’m not used to and don’t welcome.
But, anyway, the day got much better and, after a beautiful drive down through the hills of Galicia and the plains of Castile, I’m now sitting in the magnificent library of the beautiful city of Salamanca. If you ever want your heart and spirits lifted, this is a place to visit. Even if you don’t know where to find the place that serves some of the best tapas in Spain. And which I’ll only reveal for a fee.
I’m now so paranoid about speeding fines I’m wondering whether I didn’t today see the best ever speed trap. As we approached the A52 exit for Ribadavia, the two lanes reduced to one and there was a quick succession of 100, 80, 60 and 40 signs in about 100 metres. At the end of all this was a traffic cop writing something in his little black book as we passed him. Whereupon the road immediately opened up again. Can they really be so blatant?
I guess I’ll soon know but, meanwhile . . . anyone living near Salamanca got a spare shed?