From the comfort of the train speeding through the Spanish countryside, you could be forgiven for thinking that it is summer. The sun is high and the deep blue stretches far into the distance, the only clouds visible on the horizon look like chalk cliffs. But the thermometer inside the carriage says that it is only 10 degrees outside and every now and then there is a sprinkling of snow between the bare stumps of the vineyards. Still for now, as I close my eyes because of the bright sunshine streaming through the window, I doze off and dream of the summer holiday on another distant horizon.
The train we are on is from Valencia to Zaragoza. Unlike the express we caught yesterday from Madrid, this one takes 5 hours and has no buffet car. I hope that the good people of Valencia didn’t mind, but we almost cleared the station buffet out of food before we departed. We had a lovely time as Juan, our guest principal oboe is from the town and had organised for almost the entire wind section and some wannabes to go down to the beach and eat Paella.
Words cannot do justice to how good it tasted. At the concert that evening he got a cheer just for giving the A. I asked him where his family and friends were sitting.