So today is all change. No more walking in Portugal, just a long taxi ride to the border. I'm lucky in that the taxi that the hotel called was a decent size Mercedes so I can stretch out in the back. It takes over an hour to get to the border; the taxi driver has no idea about where I want to go and it takes me some effort to get him to the right place. Eventually I am giving him turn by turn directions. But still, he drops me off in a Portuguese village right on the border, Vilarelho. Better still, outside the Centro Social De Vilarelho Da Raia where a nice chap serves good coffee.
Then it's time to cross the border, I've got my test result ready to show the border guards. But there is no visible border. There's a sign saying Spain 200 metres "that way"but the border is, I work out, a stone by the side of the road.
A sign from the Galician local government is a clue. Actually the only clue.
A distinct lack of border guards.
Then that's that. Back into Spain and now to Verin. But first lunch if possible. The road from the border to Verin is fairly straight and dull and also bereft of cafes. I had detoured off the main road and was walking through a small village when a car stopped. A girl called out and said hi and introduced herself and her husband who was driving. To cut a long story short, I was driven 2km to the next village along where the local inn was doing a roaring trade for Sunday lunch. Bar Celso was a blast; there was food from the kitchen and then food from a man who was cooking octopus freelance under a gazebo.
Then into Verin. The albergue was in a fancy building and the hospitalero gave directions to a famous church which was apparently worth seeing. It may well be a great church but I never found out as it was, of course, locked.
Then out of Verin - up a steep hill to the castle of Monterrei. There's a lot of wine from this area and the castle certainly dominates the area. There is a parador in the top which looks a little odd - some buildings are fixed up and some are still ruins. But it somehow worked.
And the views out towards the west were well worth the climb.
Then a few more kms down to the valley and to the village of Albarellos and a welcome beer at Bar Celta. The day was starting to get away from me and there was no accommodation for quite a way so I booked a hotel in the mountains and found myself in yet another taxi.
The hotel in the mountains gave an impression of being busy when I arrived but the guests were all there for Sunday lunch. In the evening, there was only one occupied room - mine. Ended up having a long conversation with the owner (who incidentally made amazing lemon ice-cream) about how the lockdown was destroying his business which he had spent years building.
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