The weekend hordes have departed Baiona, the weekday hordes have yet to descend.

I sit on the terrace of Parador de Baiona, formerly the Castle of Monterreal, sipping my café con leche, nibbling on my postre feeling I could stay here—right here—forever. The only company I have is a seagull that perches on the renaissance style railing. The weather is exquisite—a welcome change after five days of cold, damp, clouds and drizzle in Oviedo. I am grateful for the serendipity that brought us here—a chance look at a brochure— a second look—a decision.

 

Michael finds me on the terrace and takes his place at the table, just in time to sip his café before it becomes too cool to enjoy.

“Are you ready to go,” he asks.

“No, how could anyplace be better than this?”

We compromise between here and there, by agreeing to walk along the old fortress’ ramparts before heading to the car.  It is a good compromise.  All of it is magic.  My kind of magic.  Ancient stone and shimmering water. Historical magic at that, the construction of this castle dates back to the 12th century and was one of the first places to learn about Columbus’s discovery of the New World as one of the caravels (small fast sailing ship) traveling back to Spain arrived here first.

The ramparts go on forever; dropping hundreds of feet onto the rocks at the edge of the sea.

“They’d have a tough time storming this fort, “ Michael observes.

The views are breathtaking, demanding that you sit or stand and inhale the day—the sea air—

—but there is always some adventure ahead, calling us away.  Fortunate or unfortunate? I wonder.