Segovia, sweet, Segovia, how I love you. You have cuchinillo and pago de carreovejas. Translation: roasted suckling pig and the best damn wine I’ve had. Too bad you can barely get it outside of Segovia, outside of Jose Maria, let alone anywhere outside of Spain. I couldn’t even stock up and stash it in my suitcase.

It was a lovely dinner with Irene’s parents, and a stroll around town helped alleviate the happy stuffed feeling. I keep joking I’m coming home “gorda y feliz,” which means fat and happy. Hopefully all the walking has helped with the fat part – the happy part, well, that’s a given.

Despite a frustrating search for parking in a town built for horses and foot traffic, it was a fantastic day.

Sr y Sra Salafranca – gracias.