Diary 19. Super Salamanca

We were feeling pretty down on our luck when we arrived at the parking area just outside of Salamanca. It was a long drive to get there, we'd been battling with rain, fog, steep mountains and of course, the leaking van. We needed an upswing. 

We just about managed to guess the right location of the parking spot, and trundled down to it to see another camper there. We did our usual dance of negotiation between parking for privacy, and parking in proximity close enough to elicit conversation should our neighbours be friendly. 

It was open the door to let Bailey out time, and to have a little look around ourselves. A young Spanish chap came over from the camper to Matt to say how cool he thought our van was. Good, the ice was broken, so at least it wouldn't be an uncomfortable stay. We were only planning on being there for the night anyway, as we were heading rapidly down towards Portugal to meet a friend on holiday. 

Anyway, as we got chatting about Bailey, his dog Rocko came out to see what the fuss was about, and so did his daughter, a funny little girl called Sua, who seemed to be staring into my soul as I looked at her! I'm sure that little one has some kind of sixth sense about her. Her stare is positively spell binding, and I felt as though I had to be on some kind of best behaviour or she'd see it!

He introduced himself and his little clan, then his wife Daniela came out of their van, charged straight towards us in our little huddle and asked if we liked coffee. From that exact moment on, our luck changed. As fairly liberal British people, we thought that we showed kindness and hospitality to a fairly alien degree by UK standards. Well, Daniela blew that out of the water. She busied herself with preparing coffee, and we got ourselves settled into our home for the evening. I don't know if it was just the circumstances and being weary travellers, or if the family cast an amazing joyful spell on that pan of instant granules, but that was quite honestly one of the best cups of coffee I've ever had. We chatted, we shared, we laughed. And then we heard the thunder. 

Thor had heard from a local that there was a chance of hail and warned us too. He asked if we had a solar panel, but in mainly Spanish, so it took a little more than a minute for the four of us to decipher what the question was (oh the joys of immersive language learning!). Thor gave us a tip to pop a blanket or something soft on top of the panel to protect it, as the forecast was more golf balls than petit pois. Thank goodness he did, that storm raged with fury, and plated the land with so much rain and hail that you would certainly think we were in the Outer Hebrides. Already, we owed them. 

Matt and myself set about trying to mangle together a dinner for 4 and a half people out of the very measly 2 person dinner rations we had left. When we finally thought we may have a concoction suitable for all tastes, Matt braved the storm to go over and ask them if we could cook dinner for them. Thor and Daniela accepted the offer with such aplomb that they even offered for us to cook in their van! As stiff upper lipped Brits, Matt rejected the offer, and we weathered out the storm (no pun intended...) by cooking the dinner so we could all break bread. 

We ate in Thor and Daniela's van "La Tanqueta De Wayra" lovingly named after their daughter, with Rocko the dog, Yogui (a huge Alsatian!) and their cat, Rita, who had followed Thor when she was a kitten as he walked the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route. It was a lovely evening chatting and getting to find out how many similarities we actually had. Both were the same age as us, both decided to come on this adventure on a whim, and both had nothing but kindness in their hearts, with good heads on their shoulders. 

The next morning, we were planning on leaving to make our way closer to Portugal, but we had a few things to sort out with the van in Salamanca (the brakes I told you about a couple of posts ago? The ones that didn't work? Yeah, that) and to have a little explore, as the occupants of La Tanqueta De Wayra had told us how beautiful and richly historic the city was. We said that we would come back through on our way to say proper goodbyes, as that morning as we were getting ready to head off, they were off to buy some cat food. We knew we couldn't leave such a lovely family behind without saying a proper goodbye. 

So, off to Salamanca we went, mechanics address in hand as our first port of call. We'd done our research about the brakes, and had come to the conclusion that the brake fluid needed changing. Armed with this information and the words for brake fluid in Spanish on my phone, we popped into a garage that had pretty decent google reviews. I did my best to apologise for my Spanish being bad, and went on to explain the problems. The lovely chap didn't speak a drop of English, so the next five minutes was us communicating in very basic sign language. Back into he garage he popped (the van was too large to actually fit in the building!) and he came out with another chap, who again didn't speak a drop of good old Blighty. Together they had a little tinker, bleeding the fluid to check for air bubbles, and off they both ran again. Matt and I were a little perplexed, but we knew that this shouldn't cost more than €30, as Thor had done some research into the price for us. 

They worked on the van, all the while the two of us were paying close attention to ensure we could identify any future faults, and possibly have an idea of how to change brake fluid in future should we need to. Another ten minutes of tinkering and some new brake fluid run through the system later, we were ready to pay, extremely grateful for the quick turnaround considering they were busy and we had just walked in off the street. Bailey obviously knew he was a kind man, as she didn't bark at him once while he sat in the drivers seat pumping the brakes. We didn't realise quite how kind he was, until I heard him say the word 'gratis' at the end of his explanation of how the brakes would feel for a few days. Still, I reached to my purse to gesture to pay, and he backed away, hands in the air. I could've cried. Okay, it only took two men twenty minutes to diagnose and fix the problem (a problem I hasten to add which no mechanics at home had even noticed despite our constant reminders that the brakes didn't work.). But that's not the point, they used product, they took time and they did a smashing job. He wouldn't even let me reach into my purse for a tip! He then gave us directions on how to get out of the one way system we had found them in, smiled ever so sweetly, and sent us on our way. The next half an hour mainly consisted of me constantly tearing up at the thought of the generosity and selflessness a native had just shown to us foreigners who couldn't communicate properly. 

We explored Salamanca, thanking our little lucky stars, and went back to our parking spot next to Daniela and Thor certain that the good karma with the van had something to do with meeting them. When we got out of the van, everyone was happy to see us, including the dogs of course, and we just knew that we were staying. I got my puzzle out, and as the rain had cleared, set up outside with a cup of tea and my husband at my side pretending to help me. Daniela very quickly brought over the starting of her macrame project and a packet of biscuits. And that's when Thor came over, with what looked like half a coconut, with some grass trimmings in it. 

As I've said before, on this trip we are really trying to say yes to experiences offered to us, to open our minds and bodies to strange things so we can grow a little more (that's cheesy, I know, but true). Thor poured some hot water into the coconut cup, and handed it to Matt. He said it might be a bit bitter, so I asked on a scale of sugar to green tea how bad it was. He said stronger than green tea. Okay then, I was very glad that Matt had been handed the chalice first. It had a metal rod coming out of it, which I immediately assumed to be a straw, but Matt thought was a handle. Enter me stifling my howl of laughter as he tried to drink a loose tea from the side of a mug which had a built in straw. 

Thor and Daniela explained to us that this was Mate tea from Uruguay, very high in caffeine and drunk primarily by the workers high in the mountains for energy on a break. In the rural areas it is drunk without sugar, and in the towns or cities where people are a little more..... discerning when it comes to palatability we'll say so as not to rich shame, they drink it with sugar. Daniela is from Columbia, and she told us that the tradition for this type of tea across Columbia is to always have it with sugar, wherever you're from. Fascinating to hear how even in the modern day, traditions are so deeply rooted in a nation or a specific community, even when faced with the same base product. 

They also explained to us that it was a social drink that's shared, where we all drink from the same cup, passing it on to the next person when the first has completely finished. The designated pourer then receives the cup back, refills the hot water, and passes it to the next in turn. I would have to guess that we drank about 8 or so of these cups each. By the fourth, I had the shakes and a sudden urge to do things and speak very very fast. Matt seemed to be handling it well, and then when I looked back at him, he was a little spaced out, sitting there chatting completely normally, but shaking the entire time. I brought some chocolate out for us all to share to take the edge off, and to help please Daniela's need for a little sweetness next to this bitter Uruguayan Mate tea.

For the second night in a row, we stayed up late talking about all things of the world, travel, parenthood, countries, jobs and finally tattoos. Thor and Daniela both had some very beautiful and clearly meaningful tattoos, so they talked us through them and their decisions of what to get and where on my request. For those of you reading who don't know me personally, I have wanted a tattoo since I was probably 15 or 16. Not just an off the wall one, and not just to 'fit in' with the kind of people I tend to associate with. I've wanted to ink myself with something truly meaningful to me, something to remind me of who I am and can be. That's where Daniela's swirled writing tattoo on her shoulder came in. She explained that it was a mantra, but one she had compiled herself, about herself, as a tribute to her strength, and to her daughter. I don't remember all of it (the caffeine haze was clearly in effect), but each line started with 'I am the sun", 'I am the moon' I am the stars', and it was truly beautiful in both meaning, and style. 

I revealed to Daniela my wish to have such a tattoo that means so much to me and me alone, that I wanted something that showed strength and love, and that for 10 years I just couldn't find the image or quote that clicked with me enough to have it placed permanently on my body. So she gave me the best advice I think I could have gotten, "Write your own mantra, for you, about you, truly yours" She then gave us the details of the lady in Barcelona who has done the majority of the couples tattoos, and has told us to let them know when we reach the city, and we'll get it organised. So, until then, I need to think of my own mantra, something a little difficult for a woman without a huge amount of pride in herself. But I'm going to do it. For me. No-one else. I'm going to have it inked on me somewhere for me. And I'm going to live each day by it, especially when I'm low and I need to be reminded of the good I hold within myself. 

I really wanted to end this blog post there, but I have to tell you all what a horrible husband man I have. The next day, as we were preparing to leave, we'd heard rumour of some kittens living in a bush nearby, so, animal lover and collector of all things cute that I am, I had to go searching for these little loves. I found them underneath a shed on an allotment, and the rumour had said that they were orphaned. Poor little dears! Some council gardeners had also just found them and one of the chaps was absolutely besotted with one of the tortoiseshell kittens. I'd managed to grab the other tortoiseshell for a cuddle, and she was Devine! Bailey came over for a sniff, and the little Chica hissed at her. I calmed her little nerves, and Matt told me we had to go and finish packing up. Reluctantly I went, and while we packed I convinced him we should go and play with the kittens a little while longer. Back we went, and my little Chica didn't run from me like her brothers and sisters this time. She recognised something about me, and let me scoop her up instantly. I was in love. 

But my mean, pragmatic poo-poo of a husband said I couldn't save her from a life of grime. This came the day after the tattoo talk, where he said that he'd like a tattoo to remind him to live in the moment and have no regrets for not trying things. Yeah.... my thoughts too....

J x

Matt here, I feel the need to butt in and defend myself! I would have loved to adopt the cute little kitty but I thought it would be unfair on Bailey to bring a new animal into her home, we don't have the space for it, we'd have to find a vets for vaccinations and have to get her a passport to come home. She might not even come back after the first time we let her out of the van. Unfortunately, I had to side with the brain over the heart which wasn't easy.