clairedavieswriter

Yesterday’s blue skies and warm sun deserted us this morning, and we were back to wearing every layer we could find. It’s fair to say it was not the weather I had been expecting, this far south.

The offence was compounded when, soon after taking the photo below, celebrating what felt like a significant moment, we were caught in a heavy shower.

Given the weather, it was mostly another day to just put our heads down and pedal. Leaving Zafra, the vineyards soon gave way to vast arable plains:

Which in turn gave way to oak forests

And suddenly we could see nothing else for miles:

Lunchtime found us in Monesterio, the self-styled City of Ham, where the pink stuff is so important it warrants its own museum:

So you can understand the consternation of the waitress when we ordered this dish – she asked, “Sin jamón ni lomo, ni nada?” (without ham or steak or anything?):

As always, there were sights to brighten an otherwise sunless day. Like this friendly sounding village, which was sadly off our route. Another time perhaps.

And who can fail to be inspired by the sight of an Osborne bull standing proudly on the brow of a hill?

To our surprise, the workaday village of Santa Olalla, where we’re staying tonight (population: 2,000) is home not only to at least seven bars/restaurants, but also to an incredibly well preserved 13th century castle, complete with picture book towers and crenellations. Unfortunately the best view of it was at a distance through the town petrol station but you get the idea:

In the interests of variety ( and because there was nowhere else), our accommodation this evening is, as the owner says himself, modest:

But it has the essentials:

Tomorrow, all being well, we should reach Seville. We’re crossing our fingers for sunshine.