One Day in Ferrol by Edna Cruden

It was just after three when we drove into Ferrol. We’d taken a few unintended detours from the Parador in Gijon and were now hot and clammy as we juddered over the cobbled streets by the harbourside.

Our instructions said we should see the sign any minute. “That was it! Just the word Parador on a metal pole” I shrieked.

Yet again David had to do a U turn as we followed the sign up an unlikely, narrow road edged with run-down flats showing signs of the splendour of bygone days.

We’d only come to Ferrol because it had a Parador – one of a series of hotels run by the Spanish State, set in historical buildings. David had a wish to see A Corunna and this Parador had been the nearest one, but as we drove up the somewhat dilapidated street, we did wonder…especially when we were blocked by a metal barrier guarded by two stony-faced policemen.

“Now what?” groaned David.
“I think that’s our building here on the left, but there’s no way in except through that barrier” I muttered gloomily…”
“O.K there’s just one parking space left,” said David. “You go and ask the policemen if we can go in…”
“What?” I grimaced, thinking of my minimal Spanish, but I went. Armed with our reservation and desperate faith in sign language, somehow I learned that we could go in, but the car had to stay where it was.

We trundled our luggage uphill towards the entrance, but when we turned the corner were a bit perplexed to see several small groups of well-tailored men in dark glasses casually standing around. Similarly when we reached the reception desk we were amazed at the speed of the paperwork and how quickly and efficiently we were escorted into the lift. As the door slid closed David remarked, “You seem very busy here. Are you expecting royalty or something?”
“Yes,” replied the clerk. “The King.”
“What?” I gasped incredulously. “Juan Carlos?”
“Yes. And Queen Sofia. They are staying here tonight. On the floor below you.”
David and I just gawped at each other, and followed in stunned silence to our impeccable clean, grandly furnished little bedroom…
“Do you think this is for real?” I asked, after he’d gone. “This is only 3 stars! How can the King and Queen of Spain be staying here?”
“Well…there are armed guards out there in the garden,” said David slowly, as he pulled back the heavy lace curtains.
“Wow! I can’t believe this.” I said. It felt as if we’d stumbled into a film set and no-one had given us the script. “But if they are coming, they must be arriving soon, judging by all the suits downstairs. Maybe we should get down quickly in case we can see them.”

I grabbed the camera from my handbag and we found our way to the bar at the side of the opulent foyer. We ordered a couple of much-needed coffees. The air was electric. The lounge, (you couldn’t really call it a bar) was filled with smart, expectant hotel employees and dignitaries…and us, still in the clothes we’d been travelling in, but no-one paid any attention.

Suddenly phones were being answered and people were mobilising, and we realised that the arrival was imminent. The room was now almost empty, only half a dozen local citizens and us remained. We moved over to a window to see the cavalcade of three cars. The middle one didn’t have a number plate, just a simple gold crown instead. From outside we could hear the muted sounds of crowds cheering as the royal couple climbed the steps. I aimed my camera but was given a negative hand signal from a uniformed man I hadn’t even noticed before.

Inside, in the foyer, they shook hands with the chosen dignitaries, stood for the commemorative photograph, and then disappeared through a doorway opposite.

We went back to our coffees.

“Well, you said there wouldn’t be much to see in Ferrol, David, but this has certainly made it a place to remember.” I laughed.

The next minute, there was more excitement. Bodyguards grouped to shield the couple as they stepped into the limousine. The cavalcade sped off. People drifted into obscurity and we were left wondering what to do. It wasn’t even 4 o’clock.

“Let’s go for a walk. Stretch our legs and see what’s in Ferrol,” David suggested.

We wandered down the nearest street. Everywhere looked shabby. Ferrol had definitely seen better days. All at once we were in the Town Square and crowds were cheering again as King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia once more settled into the royal car. The crowds evaporated almost as soon as the cars disappeared.

We wandered around the small town for about half an hour then ambled back, deciding it was time to freshen up after all the unexpected excitement. However as soon as we reached the Parador we recognised the signs of activity as mobiles buzzed and people were on the alert…
“Let’s go back into the lounge. We don’t want to be caught up in all the fuss,” I said, feeling sticky from the humidity. “We can watch from here until the coast is clear.”

We didn’t even have time to sit down before the entourage arrived. The royal couple mounted the steps and shook hands with several people in the foyer.

As we stood shielded by the open door, we saw the King go off in the same direction as before, but as the small group dispersed Queen Sofia was stepping through the same doorway, smiling, nodding, looking me right in the eye from a distance of less than a metre. I opened my mouth. I couldn’t reply except with a throaty gurgle. “Gagh, gagh,” was all that escaped. But she was moving on anyway and hopefully she didn’t know I was from Scotland.

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