What happened in the torre

Santo Domingo is famous for its cathedral and tower, which is one of the only ones separated from the cathedral building. There was a saint (Domingo) who performed a miracle with a roasted rooster crowing or something, which is how the village got its name. In honour of him, in the cathedral up high they have two live white roosters on display. I wonder if they actually have eight or nine roosters on rotation so they're not cooped up in the cathedral their whole lives. I also wonder what they do with the roosters if they die or get old. (I suspect they eat them.)

Anyway, so I decided to climb up the tower, which is about 70 m high and not a very good idea after four hours of walking with a 10 kg backpack. I nearly died halfway up. At the top, I met an old man, who started talking to me. He said he was amazed I could speak Spanish and invited me to a coffee in the Parador. Then he gave me a mini tour of the cathedral and explained the history of the gothic part and the roosters before taking his leave of me. He said he had to go before he fell in love with me and his wife got angry at him. Hilarious.

People in the villages are really friendly. When I went into the pharmacy to buy some blister bandaids, the pharmacist also said he was amazed I could speak Spanish. He said he almost had a heart attack when I walked in because he couldn't speak word of English and didn't know how he'd communicate with me.

Bilbao for Easter

I had a fantastic Easter break. A few days out from the school holidays I felt like I was going insane and if I had to tell another kid to sit down and shut up (not that I actually do that- it's not in my job description- I just stand there looking at the ceiling patiently until the class quietens down) I would pull out my hatchet and splice someone's head open. Plus there was a bit of tension in the flat, with some certain person not liking the way other certain people were doing things. (Photo: pintxos in Bilbao)

On the Wednesday when school finished up, JC also went home for the holidays so I had the flat to myself and I ran around screaming with glee.

Some of my friends were going to a refugio in the mountains, which I was going to go to as well with them but there was a pretty cheap deal in Bilbao for 2 nights and a Murakami and a Cai exhibition at the Guggenheim so Beza and I went. Just as well- it was Andres's birthday on the Saturday so when we called to say happy birthday, he told us it was raining and about to snow. Plus there's no running water and no toilet.

Ness and Cyrille were coming to Spain on the weekend and I totally forgot Ness had told me she was going to Bilbao before visiting me in Logroño so when we arranged to meet, it turned out we'd both be in Bilbao. So we met up on the Saturday night, had some pinchos and travelled back to Logroño together on the Sunday. Stopped over in Haro for lunch, waited an hour and a half at a restaurant, till about 4 pm for lunch and I got incredibly cranky. I started eating the toothpicks while waiting, I was so hungry. But really, if the waiter says there's a 20 minute wait and you end up waiting an hour and a half I think you have a right to be pissed off. Still, the food was great. (Photo: On the way home from Bilbao, we took a detour to a beach)

Ness and Cyrille left on Monday and on Tuesday, Beza and I went to Zaragoza with Rubén because our flight to Brussels left mid-morning on Wednesday and he'd kindly offered to let us stay.

When Rubén told us his flat was big and his flatmates friendly but that it smelt of old shoes or someone anti-anti-deodorant, it wasn't an exaggeration. His flatmates are really nice but it did smell a bit of... something. But very cool guys. We paid a visit to El Pilar, one of the most famous/important cathedrals in Spain and I saw my first confession box ever with a real live priest inside.