I woke to a damp bed last Sunday…….the area beneath the window was wringing wet….the window was leaking. So copious wet towels, sheets and cloths later, we were left with the problem of how to get all these things dry, in a space no larger than your smallest bedroom, on a very wet day in northern Portugal…..with an ongoing leak. The nearest launderette was packed to the gunnels and we’d got soaked in the process, so we decided to throw in the towel, ho ho geddit? After some noble work with a small hair drier by Alan, we gave up on the drying and watched DVDs instead, fortified by a glass of beer and then wine. Thank heavens we were on mains power!
Next day, dawned dry and bright, so we did not rush to the launderette, we leapt on a bus and headed into Porto, where we hopped on and off buses, tippled port, bought port, ate lavishly, admired the decorative tiles in the main station, ate enormous doughnuts in a decorative tearoom and admired the get ups of young men on a stag do. Then we came home to the soggy washing. Oh yes, we’d seen the forecast and we knew what the future held…..

Sure enough, next day it was pouring, so off we set to the launderette once more, armed with 18kg of washing (well that was the machine we chose) and it was done in a trice. Hooray! Bye bye Porto! Lovely city but shame about the rain……unusually, it had started once we started heading south.
I was last heard of in La Coruña I think, which turned out to be a beautiful city, with several harbours, a lovely waterfront and a massive lighthouse dominating its skyline. The sun shone down in La Coruña, the sea sparkled, it was all very enjoyable. We moved to a site nearer into town and decided to explore. It was very quiet and we reminded ourselves that it was Monday and Mondays are always quiet in many countries. Not a bit of it! As the sun went down around 6.30, we got really cold and this was when all the Spaniards came out to play! Back at the van we were completely engulfed by parked cars, chatty women, screeching children: the bird cage feeling had returned with a vengeance. We decided to beat a retreat.

 

On to Santiago…….all these years I’ve had a sister living in the Chilean Santiago and I never realised it meant Saint James! Doh! How stupid does that make you feel? A bit like reading French and realising that ‘Hein’ is not an abbreviation for Heinz but that funny little noise French people make when shrugging their shoulders……or ‘albeit’ ……….anyhow Santiago, great if you like ornate and believe in saints but otherwise a bit tawdry and a fair number of beggars. So we did not tarry but continued on to a campsite. Loyal readers will know that campsites are required for general washing purposes and wifi. What with our adventures in the launderette and using the shower in the van, we smelt quite fragrant but my hair was in dire need of a wash (there is a limit to what you can do in a shower in the van!) So I braved the barrack-like showers which were freezing in late January but the showers were hot, once I’d got the lever pointing the right way……and the next day it started to rain.
Seizing a gap in the rain, we squeezed in a walk through the eucalyptus woods, I had no idea there were so many eucalyptus trees in Spain and Portugal, with their pungent though not unpleasant smell, it makes me feel at times as if I’ve walked into a Vicks factory!
And then farewell to Spain at the pretty hilltop village of Tui, quite a climb up to the old city, which has been there since pre Roman times and next day into Portugal.

What can I tell you about Portugal so far? Other than it’s wet? Well in fairness, it is facing several million gallons of Atlantic water and a west wind, so it’s not really surprising……oh and we have had a visit from storm Doris.
It’s a curious mix between high tech and very old fashioned. So a lot of investment in technology, with wifi freely and readily available in many places and then streets with wonderful old fashioned ironmongers and haberdashers. On the roads, we had to organise ourselves into registering our car for electronic recognition of the number plate on toll roads; quite sensibly, they’re not building tollbooths but investing in technology….. Still on the roads, Portuguese drivers are a nightmare, they give a new meaning to the word slalom and just whizz all over the place, from slip roads onto motorways, off motorways. I think I saw more bad driving in Portugal in my first half hour here, than in the previous 2 weeks in Spain! But they do stop for you on pedestrian crossings! Unlike the Italians who just weave around you….it’s a blood sport…
Portuguese is a struggle and quite difficult to follow. Where Spanish is quite staccato, Portuguese is quite whooshy as they push words through their teeth and it sounds a bit like people skating, if you know what I mean?! With the odd ‘ow’ here and there, where they fall over perhaps? I must admit that on learning that the two national dishes of Portugal are salt cod and tripe, my heart did not fill with ecstasy. I scan menus anxiously, keen to avoid both these delicacies…..However they do have those very nice custard tartlets…
And if you’re wondering about our leak, my ever resourceful husband removed the window and has temporarily patched it up. After an exciting time explaining flexible sealant in a caravan parts shop, we now have a tube and are just waiting for a dry day to fix it….we’ve had a few minor disasters since but I’ll leave those for another time. You can’t have too much excitement at once!
The rain continues to fall, it’s one day on one day off and we are considering our future route. On the bright side, I hear little or nothing about Donald Trump, so I think I’ll stick with the soggy towels……