horns of wilmington's cow

By anth

Adios

There are two ways to look on the last day of a holiday when you're not heading home till late: firstly you can see it as almost a free day of a holiday to do with as you want; or you can simply want to be home, seeing the holiday as over. I'm of the former mind, Mel of the latter; but we still filled the last day with a trip to the Basque Museum, then a run on the tram round to the Fine Arts Museum, taking in a Goya (pre-madness) exhibition, and then a walk back to the Old Town. 

We'd planned to have something to eat in the New Town, but after a stop in one bar (in a street filled with them, and therefore filled with people spilling into the street), the heavens opened, and those who had previously filled the streets, then choked the bars. We figured it might blow over by the time we'd walked to the Old Town. But it also meant we could hit one of our favourites on the trip in the Plaza Nueva, which has this covered area all the way around it.

Still there was time after some Pintxos and Txakoli to go and grab a coffee and another Carolina - but it became clear that something was happening. Massive crowds were making their way in the same direction, until there was such a build up that the moving herd became a stationary mass, brollies up as the skies opened again. It turns out it was a demonstration about pensions, and it was completely shutting down this bit of the city.

Not knowing if the public transport option was going to be open; and after discussing with some fellow Scottish travellers as we collected our bags from the hotel; the decision was taken to head to the airport early with a walk to a taxi rank. Probably a good decision in the end.

But I really wanted my Carolina.

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