Hotel Ibérico - Cáceres

I've made it to Cáceres, after a lengthy detour through Casar de Cáceres, which is "de fiesta".

I stopped in Casar to try out the exquisite local cheese, Torta, which as far as I can tell (I skipped the cheese making section of my Spanish vocab book) is cured using thistle juice. All the more reson to enjoy it.  As the town was partying I was forced to go to a bar to get my hands on the Torta, as all the shops were shut. Before I knew it I was involved in the local festivities, and even when I escaped one bar I was rapidly kidnapped by the next one down the street, where the local ladies were so keen to find out what a scotsman wears under the kilt that they resorted to the old "dropping a pen" trick, and, less subtly, just lifting it from behind.   

All good fun, and they kept me overly well supplied with food and beer.

I eventually escaped with the excuse that I had an interview with "Hoy" the newspaper of Extremadura, here in Cáceres, otherwise I think I may well have been spending the night in Casar, which in itself would have been great, but the consequences for tomorrow's walk don't bear thinking about...  

The 9 km between Casar and Caceres were maybe the worst of the whole trip. All on the road, with hardly any room at the side for pedestrians and a 30 mile an hour wind gusting horizontally across. Leaning into the wind was all good, until it suddenly stopped blowing just before a 10 ton truck went past, which, obviously, the wind gone, I nearly fell into. The joys of pilgriming.

Interview and photo shoot done I checked into the hotel Iberico where I met Victor in reception. Coincidentally his brother lives and works in Edinburgh and Victor, who speaks fluent English, is off there soon to do an English teaching course. Excellent, once he's finished he'll be teaching his students with a braw Scots accent.