We have a 10 a.m. appointment to pick up the car. We will travel by cab and meet the representative at a hotel by the airport. To do this we must rise early, pack and then meet the cab reserved for 9 o’clock at a nearby corner. We have walked miles the day before and tried to change our personal clocks to Spain time. But it has not worked. When we go to bed, neither of us can sleep. I end up reading for an hour out of frustration in the middle of the night. When the alarm sounds, we are sound to sleep, but it has not been for long.

Today will be tough; we are both jet lagged. Cab to the airport goes well and we are early. The young man arrives and brings us the new Citron we have leased for the month. It is a nice car but smaller than expected; closer to a four door Mini-Cooper than an American small SUV. The kid, eager to help is having a hard time stuffing our bags in the hatchback trunk (do they still say hatchback?).  After the paper work, he carefully explains the car’s controls and features. Apparently, to sell cars like these, they must work like a video game. Even the stick shift for the automatic transmission is a puzzle. We keep saying we understand, but we lose the directions for one aspect of the car, as soon as he starts on the other. You’d think neither of us had driven a car for the past 10 years? He is gone and I may or may not be able to drive the car. 

We struggle with the gps on our phone and miss the first exit we need to leave from the airport. We must drive in a five mile circle to get back. Starting again, we find our way the Madrid expressway system and start out for Salamanca. I have decided there is no good reason to head there directly, as our rooms will not be available until 4 p.m. So, we divert to visit a mountain town reputedly locked in time that is in a national park. La Aberca may  be a good place for lunch then on an hour more to Salamanca. It is not long before we find that the gps has overridden our instructions and is trying to take us on the fastest route, which means tolls and that we will drive right by Salamanca and then have to double back. I spank it and make it turn me around to the chosen route, but this takes 20 more minutes. We are running well behind schedule with all the delays. 

The route is tiresome, as outside of Madrid and all the way to Salamanca we are viewing dry plains. The crops have been harvested and the views are flat farmland burned gold and brown by the sun. Only an occasional green tree breaks the bleak landscape. The sunny morning has turn dirty gray, as rain begins to spit on the windshield. The extra hour of driving to visit La Aberca seems like a bad idea. We are both tired. I do not want to drive a winding mountain road in the rain and then find that we cannot walk about La Aberca taking photos. We do not have umbrellas and one need free hands to use the camera. Plus, the light will be awful and the shots depressing. So, we stop for gas and decide to skip La Aberca and head directly to Salamanca. We exchange messages with the Airbnb host and give them our arrival time.

The GPS works better coming into Salamanca than it usually does in old cities. When the gps says, ” Arrived.” We find ourselves in front of the apartment with owner grinning at us from across the narrow city street.  He tell us to unload the luggage and then take the car to parking that has been pre-arranged. This is a blessing, as we will shortly learn that the city is packed with revelers celebrating Salamanca’s annual festival. This is a University town and the students are back and parents are visiting. The old town is packed with people. Parking would have been impossible. The owner takes me six block to a parking lot in a basement, where I must snake the car through pillars, on a curved route to the parking space. It is good we have a small car for this; though I still must stop and back up several times to make the necessary turns. Finally, he gets me into the space assigned. I have seen more difficult parking lots (in Antibe, France), but not much. 

On the walk back he recommends two restaurants as 9.5 out of 10. We are hungry for lunch and soon go out. Both restaurants have closed until evening as it is now 4 p.m. But one send us to the Plaza Mayor, where it has a branch that serves tapas on the open square. We are suprised to see the beautiful town square has been set up for a rock concert with giant stages and lighting equipment rising in front of its main interior facade. Plaza Mayor is a beautiful place, so it is a disappointment to see it cluttered with the equipment of a modern party. Still this is a majestic space, that is enclosed by four stories of beautiful architecture. Hundreds of people are milling around the plaza, and cafes are serving drinks and tapas all around the edges. We start to shoot a selfie inside the square, when a young woman interrupts us, speaking English, who offers to take the photo for us. She seems adamant, so we accept the offer handing over our phone. She also wants a photo of herself in the plaza. We take take it. This unexpected encounter is very friendly and nice. 

We find the recommended tapas cafe and order some beers and tapas. It is surprisingly bad tapas, but we are starved and can eat anything about now.  We have ordered a salad of mixed greens and vegetables. Unfortunately, we will experience in much of northern Spain a mixed salad is often made of iceberg lettuce and is alway topped with canned tuna. The olive oil and vinegar dressing is good, but the tuna is most unwelcome. 

They are doing sound check on the stage and playing American blues music that has been recorded. It is a strange mix of cultures sitting in 1000 year old Spanish Plaza and hearing  20th century Memphis music. No one seems upset by this but me. 

Enough of this counter-culture, we are off for an evening walk. Salamanca, despite the city-wide party, is a pleasant surprise. The old city is packed tighter than expected with tiny streets and pedestrian lanes. Shops are open, as are sidewalk cafes on this Saturday evening. We make our way downhill to a food store to get some items for breakfast. It is a good distance down and then back up a steep hill carrying the groceries. I have a terrible back ache that has been getting worse all day. I feel like I may be getting flu and that need a pain pill, which is unusual for me. We arrive back at the apartment around 7 p.m. Ana wants to nap and then get up a 10 p.m. for the concert scheduled in Plaza Mayor. The apartment owner said it will be a group playing contemporary Spanish music. We are only several block from the Plaza, so it does not seem implausible to go. However, once in bed, we are done for the night. Almost no sleep the night before, a long tidious drive and a walk about Salamanca has done us in. We will not awake until Sunday, despite the concert blasting away well into the wee hours of the night.