On Monday night, we had a Spanish (Galician, really) delicacy called “pulpo” (“octopus”). Despite being told many times, my parents were still kind of surprised that, yes, it really was a real octopus.
But before the octopus, we went to play on the beach some, despite the weather. I was ready to go in the water as well, but everyone else chickened out, so I decided not to.
That’s not a proper “ready” position!
Who’s that stud with the paddle?
Marga and Erik show how it’s done.
Marga’s simple lifting underhand forehand works well in beach paddleball.
And home to the octopus!
Marga pops out his eyes first.
The boiling pot awaits.
The final served dish with olive oil and paprika. Delicious!
Erik makes his move on the cute chef.
Oh no! No more wine!
We got up early the following morning, drove two hours (1 hour to cover 80% of the distance, and another hour winding through the mountain roads) to the Ruta de Cares.
We asked directions to find the right trail.
Pretty mountains all over the place.
I have no idea how they built this bridge or why. That’s a fast-moving mountain spring running under it.
Can you spot Paul?
That crumbling house was a nice place to rest.
On this path, the cattle have a “caution, human crossing” sign.
This trail was hard on all calves. The cows and our muscles.
What a cutie!
Paul shows off his “bull” hat next to an iberian bovine.
We enjoyed the rest while the cows went by. But when we started back again, you had to watch where you stepped!
The vet we had with us said that these little ones could be as little as three weeks old.
I took lots of pictures.
Resting at the little house.
The old man eases himself down the steps.
The views were uncapturable by camera.
A nice Spanish man took this picture for us. I love it.
We had to leave my father behind because he was slowing us down.
He’s there on that grassy patch, occupying one pixel of this picture. Can you spot him?
This is zoomed in. Click on the image to see the larger version.
Why would you build a house there?
This is a caption reuse, but: Margarita on the rocks.
This goat was way up on a cliff.
On the way back, we stopped at the monastary of Covadonga.
And before leaving Asturias, we had to have some cider. It has to be poured in this way, according to tradition.
The foreigners tried, but failed.
Off to France for two days! See you soon!