Setcases Pyrenees 1

After two and half hours of travelling in a taxi from Perpignan, we arrived in Setcases which is actually in Spain. I have never spoken Spanish in earnest let alone in Spain, but the task is made easier by simply knowing three key pieces of Spanish vocabulary. The words for beer, for four and for please. The rest just followed.

Setcases was empty, not deserted but far from neglected though. The buildings were all in good restored condition and bristling with new timber. If Ronseal had had the job of wood preservation then Setcases shouted rather than said what it says on the tin. A small channelled stream flowed down through the tidy village but that was the only thing moving. There were no cafes or open shops or people.

The hotel, of which we were the only residents, was comfortable. As we walked in we were greeted by the fact we were not in a comfortable language zone. But there were people. Three people met us. An old man sat at a table while his wife, one supposes, was cutting up huge mushrooms into bite sized chunks. The mushroom was a bolet, a speciality of the area. Indeed, at the end of summer, Setcases holds a festival for the bolets. Either there is little else to do but have a mushroom festival or they are very special mushrooms indeed. We probably saw and ate later what was on the table. A young coloured girl of an engaging laugh was indicated by the older woman to show us to the rooms. Later she served us beers and later still served us our meal. The meal was welcome and quite filling. There was a hot, clear, salty soup with macaroni which was followed by a salad of tomatoes with olives. And there was meat which kept the most carnivorous of our company happy. It satisfied the prediction made by Bob when he spotted the sharp knives set out on the table. And there was wine, local and young but, oh, there was wine. And the cheerful Columbian who found us always a cause of laughter.

We were curious why Setcases was so neat and clean and yet so empty of people. Even the bread shop was closed on the morning we left. But there was activity of a distinctly commercial and possibly tourist nature. A small square above the through road was setting up for the day. Tables and chairs were being set by staff who also were of Columbian stock. Behind the tables were a shop and a bar where at a price we obtained our lunchtime picnic. It was distinctly laid out for tourists and not the local village needs. It reminded me of the gift shops tacked on the end of National Trust properties or food craft centres encountered in Scotland. Quality wrappings, tins and boxes were on shelf display containing the best of local produce. We bought a range of suitable foods. There was bread, cheese at a price, bread and water. We also bought Cupa Chups. And so we left the square, descended past the hotel, crossed the road and began the climb out of Setcases and headed off towards Mollo.

Proof that Setcases can be busier than we witnessed