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| A weird, wonky, rusty hotel in Rioja. The padre must have got the night here really cheaply. We sometimes despair of their taste |
We were not sure why this bucolic rural village was plagued with sexist aggression (we are not sure what that is ) |
But they did have decent puddings, and for once the madre let us have a pudding |
On to Dordogne and Auntie Gaynor and Uncle Victor |
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| Uncle Victor was amazed at the help that we gave him .. |
..on the finer points of cooking. He learnt a lot from us. |
A quiet glass of Champagne with the madre |
..and some serious slap up meals to round off each day |
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| Then off to Burgundy for a really poncy hotel. Even Eduardo would have thought this poncy |
Not the sort of place we could put our paws up on the furniture |
Funny people the French. They built lots of these sorts of ,, |
..chateaux, then chopped off the heads of the owners |
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| We spotted a Michelin Inspector in the restaurant. That's him over in the far corner behind Pembroke |
His presence seems to cause panic to Herbert, the hotel Director, who was on duty |
We toured round the Burgundy countryside to visit and old abbey, |
..which actually still had its roof on. The places the padres usually visit are just piles of old stones |
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| They tried to find us some smelly cheese, and happily failed. |
And luckily found us a couple of decent ice creams instead |
We stopped at a up market chateau to buy some wine. |
The cellar was really dark, dank, and scary |
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| But the padre bought a few bottles of their plonk |
After Burgundy, a stop for the night in Northern Spain |
It was a snug, sort of cave like room |
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| ..with a swimming pool just outside our door |
The restaurant was apparently named after us |
..and we got into some serious eating. |
From here back to Moraira the next morning. |