Today we woke up a little earlier than yesterday, with that morning tingle that you only get on the last day of a getaway. The sheets were left behind and, as a celebration that we still had a full day together, the humans had breakfast of something called Dutch toast (wentelteefjes). I just watched the breakfast to make sure no crumbs with a desire to escape got away.

We left before 11 and barely twenty minutes later we were passing through Prades, a quiet little town at the foot of the mountains, where the 4x4 came back to life after so much time resting since Ireland. With the engine purring, I thought it was a good opportunity for something a little more... let's call it adventurous. So papi Edu decided to go off the asphalt and go up a fun trail rather than a road. Some hikers looked at us as if thinking "but can you go this way?", and I returned looks full of canine pride, because that narrow and stony road had my name written on every curve.

We went up to Coll del Bosc and stopped there. I stretched my legs, soaked up the smell of the forest and wind, and we even showed the camper to a group of hikers who were amazed by our rolling house so well set up for any terrain. After the laughs we went on and joined the T‑700, one of those roads with many curves that humans like as much as I like sniffing every sign of smoke, every speck of dust and every aroma of the countryside.

After midday we arrived at Poblet, where we parked to visit the Reial Monestir de Santa Maria de Poblet. This monastery is not just any pretty village church; it is one of the largest and most complete Cistercian monasteries in the world, founded in the 12th century and declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. It is surrounded by imposing walls, has an impressive cloister, a Gothic church with high vaults and a fortified royal palace where the kings and queens of the Crown of Aragon rest, such as James I the Conqueror.
We couldn't go into the cloister because of the schedule and, besides, they wouldn't let me in with my elegant fur, but what we saw outside was enough to feel the history under our gaze. The stones whispered centuries and centuries of monks walking slowly, of prayers and of stories that seemed to come out of an old book.

After almost an hour of looking, taking photos and letting the shadow of the walls draw curious lines on our faces, we went back to the camper and continued the route. Half an hour later we parked again on the outskirts of Santes Creus. Here I stayed enjoying the camper, stretching my legs and making my own exploration plans, while papi Edu and tito Joan went up on foot to visit the Reial Monestir de Santes Creus inside.

This monastery was also Cistercian and has its origins in the 12th century. Compared to Poblet, monastic life in Santes Creus did not continue until today, and there is no living monastic community as in Poblet, but the complex is still huge, sober and majestic, with a Latin cross church, a magnificent Gothic cloister and architectural details that show how the use of Romanesque forms evolved into Gothic over the centuries.

Papi Edu and tito Joan returned after almost an hour and a half, delighted with their audio guide and with a thousand anecdotes about Gothic windows, pointed arches and capitals with curious shapes that only humans seem to decipher. I received them as two explorers returning from an epic mission.

We ate in the camper in the same car park. It was a feast with a view, and I gave myself a strategic nap after so many interesting smells in the morning. Then we had to head for Berga, more than 125 kilometres that flew by on the motorway. We arrived around seven in the evening, already at night, and there was the yaya waiting for us at home as if we were heroes of a film. Today we have dinner at home, we will sleep at home, and although this getaway is over, the feelings of this last day still go around in my canine head like balloons that never deflate.