Learning from yesterday’s mood dip, I set an alarm for the morning, thinking to try and restore some semblance of routine. Besides, I had a train to catch in the afternoon and I needed to get ready.

Before I left the hotel, I had a tepid coffee I’d bought the night before, made my morning ablutions, then packed my bags. Despite having a little more stuff to carry, they weren’t quite so awkwardly packed (although the weight felt the same).

There was the thirty minute walk to the station at 11am through the heat carrying two heavy bags.

I’m starting to wonder why I brought a trekking rucksack rather than a nice piece of wheely luggage. I guess it made me feel more like an explorer than a tourist in some way. It certainly makes me work harder! I don’t mind really – carrying a 20kg pair of bags is a good workout – and the Spanish food needs the exercise!

I arrived at the station in good time and sat in a cool quiet waiting room to read. An hour before my train was due to leave, I decided to get some provender and check on which platform it would depart from.

The only departure leaving dead on 1400 was a bus. I hate busses. The TrainLine app said it was a train. I am confused, but not at panic level.

Trying not to panic, I checked with the information desk and it was indeed a bus. I’m not going to be able to read. And I’ll likely get a headache because I’m kinda allergic to buses.

It does explain why it’s going to take NEARLY THREE HOURS to get to Sigüenza. And why my trip to Toledo is by bus.

This journey represents the midpoint of my holiday. There are eight days behind me, this day, then eight days ahead of me. It’s been an adventure so far to be sure!

Zaragoza grew on me considerably after that initial impression. The old city is charming, in its way. I met some friendly people, found my way around, and realised that this is quite a cosmopolitan city itself – which seems to always make me feel safe. I’ve mentioned before that variety makes me feel safe because I am myself a member of a minority group.

I wouldn’t go out of my way to go back to Zaragoza, but neither would I avoid it.

It took about five minutes for the coach to leave Zaragoza. I guess that is one of the advantages of building upward rather than outward. The British, myself included, are addicted to having our own house and garden. Up rather than out would leave more farmland and countryside. And I love the little shops at the bottom of every tall building. In the Med, living that way goes back to the Romans, who’s towns often were divided into blocks (which they called insulae). Generally, they wouldn’t have their own kitchens, but would eat at the cafe in their block, get their linen washed in the laundry under their apartment.

I hadn’t planned to make this particular journey by coach, but I’m not unhappy with the outcome. I watch the country slide by, going uphill and downhill (something trains tend not to do), which gives me views over valleys and hills. The land is regularly spotted with trees and shrubs, the hills green, but with a green that says “it’s hot”, rather than a fresh spring green. There are plenty of shrubs flowering in white, red, and pink. There’s area of what looks like desert, spotted with white rocks on the yellow ground. I love the dramatic rocky outcrops. I also saw many, many golden fields of wheat, reminding me that this was one of the breadbaskets of the Roman empire.

I listen to music on my headphones – my “music to calm me” playlist. The theme from “Somewhere in Time” comes on. My mum would often put that soundtrack on as something quiet and sophisticated during a dinner … but this time, instead of thinking of her, I think of my ex. I miss him terribly sometimes – much more than I care to admit. And I love him so deeply. That’s not going away. I would so love to hold him again. I am crying behind my sunglasses.

I need to find something else to listen to.

On went my “Music to make me smile” playlist. That helped, although an early appearance of ABBA’s “Winner Takes It All” meant the climb to a brighter mood wasn’t smooth. But I wasn’t going to skip an ABBA track.

Watching the scenery meant that the ride didn’t feel like nearly three hours, and as it approached the scheduled arrival time I got Google maps out and watched the coach’s progress towards the town.

The driver was quite a happy chappy and chattered to the passengers behind him all through the journey. He even told smokers that they had time for a fag at the various stops… although that was partly for his own benefit. He took a somewhat relaxed approach to lane discipline that left me really not wanting to look out of the front window.

As we approached Sigüenza, a big red boxy castle appeared over the top of the hill! I felt excited – I love a good castle! The town spread itself out on the hill below the castle.

My hotel was less than ten minutes walk from where the bus dropped me, which was actually was a train station. I loved seeing the rambling streets. This was picture book Spain! All around I could see hills densely dotted with trees.

My hotel was called “Hostel El Meson”, so I was a little nervous in case I was in a battery hen coop again. A cheerful Spanish lady confirmed my name and led me up some stairs. My room was at the end of a corridor.

It is the most beautiful room! Bare stone walls, gorgeous wooden furniture, and a cute shower room. The window is tiny, which makes this feel like a cave, but when I look out I have an exquisite view across the town towards the hills opposite.

What a contrast in emotion between here the last place!