Next day up at six to catch the early bus to Zaragoza, which Joaqín had informed us left "a little after 7, maybe 7:15 or 7:20". Such are the bus timetables in Campo. We were waiting dutifully at the bus stop (unmarked of course) at 7:10, and waiting and waiting...bus finally rolled up at 7:50 and so began four hours of intermittent sleep punctuated by bickering couples, the guy behind me nudging my seat, and having to change buses midway as ours was broken. Some beautiful views coming out of Campo though.
Zaragoza itself isn't really that spectacular - made even less so by rain and our frayed nerves. After we'd booked into a hostel we started to do the touristy thing - the Basilica of St Pilar (absolutely stunning) and a Muslim/Latin palace called the Alfajoreria...or something. Also beautiful and fascinating but by this point we were all so tired from the wedding and travelling and lugging our bags around that we were practically ready to kill each other. Plus Mum got one of her mammoth migraines so Dad and I went out for dinner by ourselves.
Plan next morning was to leave clean but not particularly interesting Zaragoza for San Sebastian. We ate breakfast and wandered the main streets of Zaragoza, I bought a book I've been dying to read for ages ("The Perfume" by Patrick Susskind) and a transformer for my phone charger (I wouldn't bother but my mother would go mental without a mobile) and then there I was on the bus to San Sebastian next to a mute with a distinct and powerful smell of body odour. At least I had my favourite Spanish magazine, El Jueves, to take my mind off it.
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