Zamora is a proud, provincial city that knows how its bread is buttered. In its Plaza Major, one finds a fully plumbed in and operational central pivot, circle irrigation rig. Several spans arc over stone cobbles and spray cooling water mist over delighted children and sun toasted pedestrians. I’m in Tábara (KM 655) tonight, a smaller town with another noteworthy, revitalized central plaza. It’s Friday night and lively after another hot mid day.
I’ve been to the 8 p.m. Mass in the parish church which fronts on the Tábara square. Arriving early, I found twenty people reciting a vespers rosary. A woman “calls” and fifteen women and four men “answer”. It has the pacific thrum of chanting Tibetan monks. Everyone knows their part and there is no hesitation and never a missed beat. It’s like clockwork. This concludes just seconds before the steeple bell rings, the priest enters the sacristy, and the mass begins. The service is conducted by candle and sun setting natural light streaming in through stained glass windows. The church is “La Asuncion”.
This morning I walked across a beautiful arched bridge spanning the Rio Esla bringing me still closer to Galicia. Minutes later I scaled river bank cliff up to where I could enjoy marvelous views of the surrounding country.
