Spain

There is always that one day in a holiday when the alarm is set for stupid AM and you have to get up. With 4 hours sleep and caffeine fuelled, off we set for the airport where for once I was not the one getting the pat down. Although we were there very early, we still only just made it to the departure gate on time. On to the flight and before we had time to have a proper sleep, found ourselves at the Santiago de Compostela airport. Luggage was there waiting and we departed to look for our ride. Seeing a man with a sign reading "O'Brien" (Editor's note: a Seinfeld joke - you can look it up), we followed him and headed downhill for an hour until we arrived at Pontevedra.
For a town that advertises themselves as car free, there sure are a lot of cars.

There was around a 4 hour wait until check in, which was just the right amount of time for the thickest hot chocolate in the history of delicious hot drinks. The added bonus was the churros and croissant that came with it, at no extra cost.

Back to the lobby we went, hoping that 2 hours would be long enough to rebuild a bike and get it to the bike mechanic on time. Both missions were not impossible, with the added bonus of the extra work that was done on the bike. Chain shortened, gears now smooth. Pity it gets put back in the bag straight after the race. Did we have lunch? No idea. Did we eat dinner at 9 pm because that is just after the restaurants open? Yes.

The waitress warned Annette that the meal she ordered was too big for one person, so we decided to share. Picture a medium large pizza tray. Picture a piece of crumbed steak with cheese and ham inside that struggles to fit on that tray. That was dinner, with fries and capsicum to at least make it look like we are trying to eat healthy. The fact that we had some chocolate dessert lava-type concoction, when totally stuffed, still puzzles me. Back to the room by 11ish, and still puzzled by the odd hours Spaniards operate to.