Day 91 -- Ribaforada
Did not make it here 'til this morning, slept a few K away under some cypress trees next to the old Buñuel railway station (which is further from that pueblo than it is from here).
I had not seen much of Cortes when I made that quick note yesterday (I am in Navarra !!!), but its historic centre is lovely. It was the site of a Castilian Court (hence the name of the pueblo, similar in England to how some places are called something Court, or Royal that).
Anyway, there is an impressive and architecturally beautiful, in its simple symmetry, fort, and a richly decorated 16th Century or so small palace and/or town hall and the Corte building itself.
Peaceful, simple, and yet refined in the highest aesthetic manner.
The walk on from there yesterday (and this morning) was one of those "boring" ones, long straight dirt track through fields and right next to the railway, but at least the weather was good hiking weather.
Still too slow though, and I was eventually halted by my pains, plus my unwillingness to keep on walking until 10PM.
The mulch under the cypresses and the black earth beneath it was anyway quite soft, so I slept perfectly well.
Freight trains blasted through sporadically overnight, but I have spent so much time on night trains in the past that it was actually somewhat soothing.
I had noticed otherwise, over recent days, that the contents of my backpack had been settling somewhat, and this morning I managed to fit the inflatable mattress inside it. Far better than having it strapped with elastic on top !! Also a good sign that finally I've learned to carry not too much "stuff".
‐---------------
Ribaforada is a less beautiful but much friendlier place, and they are justifiably proud of their excellent gastronomy.
I am recovering and recharging, again, in a bar here -- looked in a first one, and it seemed snobbish and uninviting. Then this one seemed at least normal, but it is in fact great.
I had a quick bocadillo, but that left me still hungry and still a bit tired ; meanwhile, I could see that people were coming in at all hours for a meal. hmmmmmm ...
So I asked for a steak and chips ; and either it's true they had none, or they would have none of such a boring order for me.
In any case, why not take this instead ?
"This" turned out to be slivers of ham ; a bottle of vino tinto ; roast mutton with chips and eggs.
Now, roast mutton is difficult to get right. This one wasn't wrong in any way whatsoever, but it was close to perfect.
Properly tenderised over several hours of slow roasting, strong basic flavour correctly balanced with garlic and a good enough mint sauce, it's a delight ; entirely impossible in France, as they insist on only eating lamb, and never mutton. Plus French sauce à la menthe is vile muck.
I think my mum's was marginally better ; she combined the Spanish recipe with bourgeois French roasting technique and the proper English recipe for the mint sauce. And, while we were still in Britain, the proper English mutton. Plus much MUCH more garlic.
Gosh knows if after this feast I'll be moving on anywhere else, seems doubtful right now ; though there's another pueblo, slightly hors piste, not that far -- we'll see.
Hotter weather now.