The Rain in Spain

The rain in Spain may fall mainly on the plains, but it also falls in the hills outside of Girona. Erik sent his warm riding clothes home, thinking that it was going to be warm and dry down here, so I lent him my wind jacket for our evening ride in the rain. His arms stretched a few inches beyond the length of the sleeves and his chest pushed outward on the zipper, giving away that the jacket was borrowed. When it is cold and rainy, fahsion takes a back seat.

Right from the doorstep of our bed and breakfast are beautiful rolling roads with very little traffic. We are staying at a restored 13th century benedictine monestary-turned-bed and breakfast located just outside of Girona. The place is owned by a nice English couple who resurrected it from ruins five years ago. They've got a friendly black lab named Jazz whose hips are exhausted from a lifetime of swinging. It fits the setting - laid back and semi-retired.

We went into Banyoles for dinner, only to discover that the restaurant selection was slim. It was pouring rain, so we ducked into an asian tapas bar - the closest thing we could find to real food. When we arrived back at our room, we were still a little hungry. Erik and I had some snacks laying around, but were careful not to fill up on the wrong things. My Spanish isn't great, but I think I can understand the meaning of the following label from the package of prunes:

'Contienen mucha fibra, facilitan el transito intenstinal'.

We filled up on wine instead.