Clouds are pink and birds are singing. Morning in Tallinn airport is pretty busy.
Brussels
Weird airport, I can't find the book shop.
A big group of Japanese arrive, put themselves in the middle of the corridor and accompanied by lound chatter a man in yellow shirt gives explanations about the airport. Two Indian woman look as amused as I do.
from Basque country to Asturia
Sea is full of boats when it's possible to see it from between the clouds. We land on a small level place among mountains. Feels quite cramped.
Somewhere has to be a shuttle bus. It rains. There's a row of taxis and a couple of busses, waiting for tourist groups. I make a phone call. One has to go to the third floor where the departures are. Really, there comes a small bus with a Goldcar sign on it. I'm the only passenger. The car rental place is not far away. The driver says that on Sunday the weather will be better. The girl in the rental company is surprised - que rapido! Then we agree to speak English. In English she confuses the words 'full' and 'empty', sells me an additional insurance and probably one of the most expensive tanks of fuel in Spain. I get the key and information that the car is 'there' and is green. I find it after the number plate. 'Green' is 'gris', though. It's called Fiat Panda. A bit funny to sit in such a small thing. When did I last drive with manual gear exchange? In Turkey?
Sun and torrents of rain take turns. Mountains are nice, green, the landscape full of yellow blossoms. Now and then there are sandy beaches with foamy waves. Great. Snow-capped mountains as a backdrop.
A break on the 256th kilometer on the road A8. So says the receipt of the café. I get a sandwich and coffee in Spanish. An old man sits on stool watching football on TV. The staff drink coffee in the back room but show up friendly and immediately when a customer comes.
Further on the road does not match with the description so well because there are construction works and a detour. I still get to the hotel without problems if a back-and-forth driving in Arriondas is not counted in. This one sign really is easy to miss.
The house looks excactly as I remember from the pictures. A bit out of the village on the side of a hill, above the valley. With stone roof and shutters in front of windows. English comfort in Spanish style. Nigel sits behind the counter. Introduces the surroundings, house rules and the room.
From my room there's a view towards mountains. It's passed the time for ordering dinner but Joann in the kitchen isn't bothered by that. On the menu are soup, red paprika stuffed with rice and desert.
I inquire how far is it to Santa Maria chapel. Not far but the path is supposed to be muddy. Mud doesn't scare me. Next to the road is a cemetery. I step in, I've never before seen that kind of shelf-cemetery.
The path turns into forest between some abandoned houses. The chapel is not far. Door is locked, by peeking in there's not much inside. A lot more can be seen inside a hollow tree which grows in front of the chapel. Cow-bells sound from somewhere, it drizzles a bit. Path follows a stream and stream follows the path, covering it once and a while. Nothing impassable. Forest is mossy, ferns unroll new leaves. When I get back to my room a downpour starts.
Downstairs in the lobby there are some problems with internet at first. Fellow traveler Azul knows the password better than Nigel. Today there are four single rooms occupied and we are seated together. Nigel inquires everyone first if that's okay. Azul and one older English lady have spent here a week already doing some spirituality course. Azul lives in London, but comes partly from France, I guess, her father is from Lebanon. John arrives, an English gentleman who likes to walk. Sarcastic English humor during the whole diner, the subjects range from saving money to cookery. Lloyd Weber made his fortune investing in wines. Sentences like "I would not like the society that would have me as a member" fly over the table. Estonia is something new. The usual: if our language is similar to Russian and wondering about us having euro. But the the English themselves start saying that a big Russian neighbor is nothing nice and we have spent quite some time in the prison of nations. My job is to explain about the essence of notaries and origins of Sanskrit. I'm the first Estonian customer.
Food is delicious. Everything local and eco. According to the information on hotel's web page 30% of the foodstuff is produced in the hotel, the rest is from local farmers or towns. The webpage also says that in the beginning the local farmers were skeptical about such gardening and DIY but Nigel and Joann have changed their attitude. The hotel makes it's own cheese, cider, grows vegetables, there's honey, lambs and chicken.
Some trails in the mountains are covered in snow, snow arrived here after Easter.
Weird airport, I can't find the book shop.
A big group of Japanese arrive, put themselves in the middle of the corridor and accompanied by lound chatter a man in yellow shirt gives explanations about the airport. Two Indian woman look as amused as I do.
from Basque country to Asturia
Sea is full of boats when it's possible to see it from between the clouds. We land on a small level place among mountains. Feels quite cramped.
Somewhere has to be a shuttle bus. It rains. There's a row of taxis and a couple of busses, waiting for tourist groups. I make a phone call. One has to go to the third floor where the departures are. Really, there comes a small bus with a Goldcar sign on it. I'm the only passenger. The car rental place is not far away. The driver says that on Sunday the weather will be better. The girl in the rental company is surprised - que rapido! Then we agree to speak English. In English she confuses the words 'full' and 'empty', sells me an additional insurance and probably one of the most expensive tanks of fuel in Spain. I get the key and information that the car is 'there' and is green. I find it after the number plate. 'Green' is 'gris', though. It's called Fiat Panda. A bit funny to sit in such a small thing. When did I last drive with manual gear exchange? In Turkey?
Sun and torrents of rain take turns. Mountains are nice, green, the landscape full of yellow blossoms. Now and then there are sandy beaches with foamy waves. Great. Snow-capped mountains as a backdrop.
A break on the 256th kilometer on the road A8. So says the receipt of the café. I get a sandwich and coffee in Spanish. An old man sits on stool watching football on TV. The staff drink coffee in the back room but show up friendly and immediately when a customer comes.
Further on the road does not match with the description so well because there are construction works and a detour. I still get to the hotel without problems if a back-and-forth driving in Arriondas is not counted in. This one sign really is easy to miss.
The house looks excactly as I remember from the pictures. A bit out of the village on the side of a hill, above the valley. With stone roof and shutters in front of windows. English comfort in Spanish style. Nigel sits behind the counter. Introduces the surroundings, house rules and the room.
From my room there's a view towards mountains. It's passed the time for ordering dinner but Joann in the kitchen isn't bothered by that. On the menu are soup, red paprika stuffed with rice and desert.
I inquire how far is it to Santa Maria chapel. Not far but the path is supposed to be muddy. Mud doesn't scare me. Next to the road is a cemetery. I step in, I've never before seen that kind of shelf-cemetery.
The path turns into forest between some abandoned houses. The chapel is not far. Door is locked, by peeking in there's not much inside. A lot more can be seen inside a hollow tree which grows in front of the chapel. Cow-bells sound from somewhere, it drizzles a bit. Path follows a stream and stream follows the path, covering it once and a while. Nothing impassable. Forest is mossy, ferns unroll new leaves. When I get back to my room a downpour starts.
Downstairs in the lobby there are some problems with internet at first. Fellow traveler Azul knows the password better than Nigel. Today there are four single rooms occupied and we are seated together. Nigel inquires everyone first if that's okay. Azul and one older English lady have spent here a week already doing some spirituality course. Azul lives in London, but comes partly from France, I guess, her father is from Lebanon. John arrives, an English gentleman who likes to walk. Sarcastic English humor during the whole diner, the subjects range from saving money to cookery. Lloyd Weber made his fortune investing in wines. Sentences like "I would not like the society that would have me as a member" fly over the table. Estonia is something new. The usual: if our language is similar to Russian and wondering about us having euro. But the the English themselves start saying that a big Russian neighbor is nothing nice and we have spent quite some time in the prison of nations. My job is to explain about the essence of notaries and origins of Sanskrit. I'm the first Estonian customer.
Food is delicious. Everything local and eco. According to the information on hotel's web page 30% of the foodstuff is produced in the hotel, the rest is from local farmers or towns. The webpage also says that in the beginning the local farmers were skeptical about such gardening and DIY but Nigel and Joann have changed their attitude. The hotel makes it's own cheese, cider, grows vegetables, there's honey, lambs and chicken.
Some trails in the mountains are covered in snow, snow arrived here after Easter.
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