For two hours I enjoyed that tranquility until eventually reaching a long, straight gravel path that stretched ahead to the outline of Salamanca in the distance. Another hour and I was on a low rocky ridge looking at the city two miles away across a stretch of brown and dry ground, a ridge according to a nearby sign where Wellington gave the order for the beginnings of the battle that would eventually relieve Salamanca from the French.
Last night a couple of Spanish walkers told me they were going to head through Salamanca because it was such a noisy and busy city. As I walked towards the centre along its access roads I felt quite the reverse; it seemed remarkably quiet for a big city, even more so once I reached the largely pedestrianised centre. I found my hotel on a quiet street, freshened up and then explored. It is another beautiful place, reminding me of the best of the college area of Oxford but in a mostly different architectural style: a mix of Renaissance, Romanesque and Baroque. Even the more modern buildings blend in, built it would appear from the same light coloured stone.
I wandered the streets, busy but not crowded and mostly young befitting a university city. I walked down to the river - reedy and seemingly more for recreation than any economical benefit - saw the old Roman bridge, visited an eclectic museum of Art Deco and Art Nouveau, sat in the massive and very impressive Plaza Mayor and generally got a feel for this city. A short siesta, making the most of my hotel room, was followed by drinks and dinner with Russ and Marion, the Australian and German I originally met five days ago, together with two other Germans they knew from previous days. It was a very relaxing evening.
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