The Journey

Previously. Flew from Doncaster to Alicante. Plane full of blinged up, heavily tattooed, alcohol fuelled people, each trying to out shout the other. All bound for an all inclusive holiday on the Costas. They went one way, we went the other, to La Herradura.
Small town in a bay, low built Parador hotel on one headland. Our villa and its random complex, on the other. No large hotels in between. Few small family run places, none bigger than a dozen rooms. Plenty of tapas bars and one English ‘pub’ that advertised Full English breakfast and Sky sport.
No idea what it was like inside, the outside put me off.

This time. Stanstead. Peaceful airport, very quiet passengers, predominantly Spanish. Destination Oviedo, Asturias.
Our eventual destination, Luarca, arrived at after a slow train ride.

The journey introduced us to the Asturian people and their reputation as the friendliest people in Spain. In all of my travels through this, one of my favourite countries in the world, I have never encountered such warmth.

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