I set out on my own this morning for a day totally of my own choosing.  I decided to go for a walk. Westward. No surprise there.

It rained most of the day, which was a long one.

I was counting on finding the nice restaurant in Villalcazar de Sirga that I remembered from last year. For hours I fantasized about the menu and the nice break. The restaurant was missing-in-action.  So I hobbled .into the town looking for sustenance. This looked promising.

However, there was the usual absence of life to be found in Spanish towns during much of the day.

Desperate for a seat in the dry, I saw an open bar/cafe and pushed the door open. Inside were 3 men on one side of a small bar, and a fourth on the other. I asked what there was to eat but I didn’t want a bocadillo (see previous Day 9 post). The bartender suggested some tapas and immediately the old guy beside me said something incomprehensible and put some money on the counter. I figured he was offering to pay for my tapas but I wasn’t really sure, so I thanked him but not too effusively as I wasn’t sure what the transaction was! In any case I was served a plate of tapas along with my half glass of beer. Needing a seat, I took it to the one table in this tiny bar, and ate. It turned out to be liver cooked in some sauce. Not bad, but not exactly what I might have ordered! Here you can seen my snack, the owner’s wine, and the guy I thanked for the plate of stewed liver.

Onward ho, I put on my clammy jacket and walked another 5.6 km to stay in a convent in a roomful of people.