Recall when we said that Madrid didn’t seem “Spanish”?  We cured that completely today, via a GPS-enabled detour past the Escorial, through scenic rolling hills (which, frankly suggested to us that the Spanish, even if they had not been the first to arrive, still would have been the ones to settle in what became California) to the beautiful city of Salamanca, where the “new” cathedral dates to 1513. Grand plazas, stone streets lined with book shops supporting what was once considered the finest University in Europe (the Inquisition may have had an adverse effect on its reputation), and the kind of heat that justifies the siesta and an afternoon enjoying tapas in the Plaza Mayor.  Our hotel?  A 17th century convent, since remodeled. 

 

And – completely inadvertently – we happened upon a professional bicycle race (possibly the Spanish national championship), complete with scoring a sticky, discarded water bottle after rummaging in a bush. Free souvenir!  Result!

 

Photos forthcoming, once certain technical issues are resolved.