We’ve moved on from a decent campsite, rather like a CL, with no proper town to speak of to a touristy town with no proper campsite – the Chaves Guest House. It is like an aire but with facilities. The facilities are quite basic but perfectly adequate in that the water is hot (even in the sinks for shaving, which is a bit of a novelty) and they are clean, just a bit rustic. I had mistakenly thought that we were heading for a bona fide campsite but no. However, I soon got used to it.
Getting used to it requires getting used to the “camping on top of each other” syndrome that is typical of aires. When we arrived the chap in charge was absent – it was lunchtime, after all – so we found ourselves a spare spot round the back where our door faced nobody else which is about as good as you can get in such situations. It wasn’t exactly salubrious but we had room for table and chairs.
With Chaves’s reputation, we had originally considered staying for three nights but given the camping environment decided that two would be sufficient. The whole site seems to operate largely on trust – if nobody is present, drop your money in somewhere – but later in the afternoon our man turned up and I managed to pay him €17.00 a night including electricity.
I found a slice of heaven. Heaven was nothing to do with the campsite or with Chaves but came in the form of a large Leclerc supermarket within walking distance through the neighbouring park. Here was real food. I snagged a round of Rustique Camembert cheese, a pot of Rilletes du Mans and found some seemingly decent beer in the form of Coruja IPA at 6.0% abv. [Coruja means owl, as you may have guessed from the artwork.] My hopes were realized; it tasted good, even if it was brewed by Super Bock.
On our full day at Chaves, we walked across a Roman bridge into the older part of town thinking we might find an eatery for lunch. Many of the streets in old town Chaves had very inventive, decorative shading strung across them. We wandered around quite a few in search of eateries that were open but this was Sunday and many were closed. I thought that was a curious decision. We finally found one that looked appealing and that was open but their first sitting was full and we’d have to wait until 14:30. We tried a second smaller place that was less appealing being much too twee; same story, full until later.
The street across from the Roman Bridge was being blasted with disco-style music of the Tina Turned ilk by a DJ set up in an entrance way. There was a bar nearby which would have been an interesting place for a drink but not with the inescapable music.
We gave up and began returning to Frodo when Francine spotted tables and chairs up a street in the more modern part of town. We crossed a newer bridge and discovered a place called Cavalo Cansado [Tired Horse] which, the waiter explained, had a tasting menu for sharing. This sounded perfect and we enjoyed a very relaxed lunch to the accompaniment of less intrusive music and a bottle of local white wine.
Back into Spain next.
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