Pyrenees Day 8: Path to Parzan
The following morning we set forth westward from Viados, aiming to reach the village of Parzan by late afternoon. It was a relatively easy day, much of it along pastures and forest roads. Once more, the sun followed us all day and heat was our only natural enemy. Happily, the last portion of our route lay in the shade. Even more happily, blackberries and hazelnuts grew around us in abundance, slowing our way down quite a bit.
Parzan was a town completely destroyed during the Spanish Civil War, so its white stucco houses looked different from the older and more typical grey stone of other Aragonese villages. Its only hotel, it seemed, was just recovering from more recent devastation, as masons were busily patching up some gaping holes in one of its sides. As a result, we stayed at a tiny pension with a pink bathroom and pastoral paintings everywhere. Even with all the frills, the room was a bargain at 10 EUR per person.
For dinner we ventured down to the above-mentioned hotel, whose restaurant was open despite the construction work. However, we arrived well before the local crowd, which did not start to trickle in until 9:30pm, so the owner, Fernando, entertained us with various interesting tidbits of Spanish history, trying to postpone the time his wife had to begin cooking. We talked at length about the ancient Romans and their gold mining methods, the Camino de Santiago pilgrim route, and the scientific achievements of the Moors. At several points Fernando appeared on the verge of taking our food order, but before his pen could reach the pad he was holding he would always get sidetracked into telling some admittedly fascinating story, myth, or historical episode (we often weren´t sure which it was). When the food arrived, however, it was quite good, and we left feeling satiated, as well as educated.
Parzan was a town completely destroyed during the Spanish Civil War, so its white stucco houses looked different from the older and more typical grey stone of other Aragonese villages. Its only hotel, it seemed, was just recovering from more recent devastation, as masons were busily patching up some gaping holes in one of its sides. As a result, we stayed at a tiny pension with a pink bathroom and pastoral paintings everywhere. Even with all the frills, the room was a bargain at 10 EUR per person.
For dinner we ventured down to the above-mentioned hotel, whose restaurant was open despite the construction work. However, we arrived well before the local crowd, which did not start to trickle in until 9:30pm, so the owner, Fernando, entertained us with various interesting tidbits of Spanish history, trying to postpone the time his wife had to begin cooking. We talked at length about the ancient Romans and their gold mining methods, the Camino de Santiago pilgrim route, and the scientific achievements of the Moors. At several points Fernando appeared on the verge of taking our food order, but before his pen could reach the pad he was holding he would always get sidetracked into telling some admittedly fascinating story, myth, or historical episode (we often weren´t sure which it was). When the food arrived, however, it was quite good, and we left feeling satiated, as well as educated.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 9:56 PM
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