Reaching Ribadavia

In March/April of last year we came to Vigo on an exploratory visit, getting to know the area a little and investigating possible places to live. It was a rather damp and dreary fortnight with just a few good sunny days, not very encouraging for venturing much out of Vigo. Nonetheless, an-exploring we did go, visiting a number of places around Vigo. Tui stands out as a day of windy sunshine. A Guarda is remembered for the desperate search for somewhere warm to eat.

One place we kept trying unsuccessfully to visit was Ribadavia. It had been recommended but we had difficulty getting there. For some reason, because we flew into Oporto airport in Portugal where the time is the same as in the UK, we had not remembered to alter our watches on entering Spain and wandered around for a couple days wondering why we were always the last to eat breakfast in the hotel. It puzzled us also that every restaurant we went to at lunchtime seemed to be in a hurry to close not too long after we got there. It was only when we went to catch a bus to Ribadavia and missed it that we realised our clock error. Oops! Other failures to get there were not our fault; the bus company cancelled buses or altered the departure time without prior warning. More of that later!!

We were beginning to think of Ribadavia as a place akin to Atlantis, mythical and unattainable, but finally last week we managed to get there. Arriving at the rather bleak bus station, we asked our way to the town centre, in search of the tourist office. On the road into town there was a helpful map. Unhelpfully, it did not have a useful Esta usted aqui symbol to give you a point of reference. The locals were friendly though and soon directed us to the Plaza mayor where the tourist office is situated in the former home of the Counts of Ribadavia. This doubles up as a Jewish Information Centre as Ribadavia is famous for its old Jewish quarter. There was a Jewish community there possibly as early as the eleventh century and even after the Catholic Monarchs, Fernando e Isabel, expelled all the Jews from Spain, many Ribadavense Jews either moved to Portugal and came back when the fuss died down or converted/pretended to convert to Christianity and carried on with their business.

The tourist office staff were friendly and helpful, recommending places to eat as it was already lunchtime. We ate in a pension on the Plaza Mayor, a pretty good 10 euro menu del dia. Then, fed and watered (well, wined to tell the truth) we went to look around the town. It was a fine sunny day, noticeably hotter than in Vigo. I spotted 26 degrees on a chemist's sign.




An old walled town with the interesting looking remains of the castle where the Counts of Ribadavia lived before they moved to the tourist office, Ribadavia is full of well kept narrow streets and arches in the old quarter as well as numerous churches with their bell towers. Views over the river are quite spectacular: all in all a lovely place, well worth the visit and centre of the local wine trade to boot.








Eventually the time came to make our way home. We walked back over the bridge , past the church and convent of San Francisco and popped into the railway station to see if by any chance there was a train. We like trains and it would be a change from the bus. But, no, there was no train until much later.

Ok, fine, just time to pop into the bus station to check whether we neeed to buy tickets in advance for the six o' clock bus. Not at all, said the rather grumpy man whose job seemed to be to sit behind the counter and read the paper, but he thought that we would find that it had gone already. It was 5.50! The bus was meant to go, not from the buss station but from the bridge, at six o' clock according to the time table on the wall. A run down the road established that it had indeed gone, confirmed by the ladies in the photography shop.

Back at the bus station we remonstrated. It was one of those "not my fault, mate" moments. There is no point, it seems, in looking at the printed timetable. This is an official document sent by the bus company but they change the times at will and inform him by phone in the morning. If he changed the time on the document today, other people might wait 20 minutes in the sun tomorrow. Now, personally, I would rather wait 20 mintes for a late bus than miss an early bus and have to wait 3 hours for the next one. And what about a bit of joined up thinking? Earlier in the day we had spoken to him about the six o'clock bus and he had not thought to tell us it left early! We could, of course, sue the us company, he advised us. He would!

Anyway, in the end we caught the next bus to Ourense. The grumpy man DID manage to tell us that, although the "official" document said that the bus did not come into the bus station, in fact it did so. We could wait there. Joined up thinking at last!

So, a bus to Ourense, in the opposite direction to Vigo, a 15 minute wait and an express bus back to Vigo. The journey in total took us about an hour longer than planned and cost us an extra 3 euros each, more or less.

We broke up the walk back from the bus station in Vigo with a quick beer and tapas. It was still a warm evening. On the whole, we decided, it had been a good day, if a little frustrating once again on the travel front!