Spain as it was.
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We were a little nervous about crossing the border into Spain, but the customs officer who pulled us over just let us go when he realised we couldn’t speak any Spanish. So we drove on through San Sebastian then past other desperate looking towns, all rubbish and rubble and basque separatist graffiti. We stopped for the night at a campground near a small village called Pancorbo. Hot and dusty, surrounded by sheep with bells. We spent the late afternoon siting in the sun painting. The next day started equally sunny, but soon the black clouds rolled over the sky and it became grey and wet. We stopped at Burgos and listened to the priests chanting in the cathedral before driving on to Salamanca.