Aparcar en Zaragoza fue misión imposible, pero a cambio hubo bocadillo de calamares, calles llenas de vida, una basílica gigantesca con una virgen diminuta y un final perfecto en lo alto de un tossal tranquilo donde dormir a gusto.
Zaragoza
Today I got lost among waterfalls, stairs and tunnels in the Monasterio de Piedra. Lots of water, lots of tired legs and a monastery that Edu wasn't that impressed with. In the end, motorway, pitch black night and bed in Medinaceli.
We slept with wind that howled louder than I did, waking up Daddy Edu to wrestle with the heating. Then fog, Tarazona that looks like Italy, an abandoned sanatorium that gives you the creeps, and a perfect hideout next to a dark reservoir.
The rain and laziness left us trapped in the camper all morning, but when we went up to the Santuario de la Misericordia the wind was roaring outside and the heating turned the inside into a perfect refuge.
The fog held us up, the city tested us, and the diesel nearly ran out. A day without tourism, but full of little adventures and improvised decisions.
Today I turn eleven in Zaragoza. In the morning there’s Belchite and long walks. In the afternoon, doggy cake, a candle with the number eleven and a new present. A full day, a full life.
Today I wandered through a town frozen in war, explored a Little Russia in absolute silence and witnessed a free shower that nobody had asked for. We ended up sleeping among pine forests, with history still smelling of old stone.
A steel monster planted by the river, ruins that appear like memories and a perfect end on the banks of the Ebro. Today we travel slowly, with cold, wind and many little ones watching every step.