Medina Del Campo, Spain

     While I was in my early twenties, I went to Medina Del Campo, in Spain.  I went in by train, in the heat of the day and walked down a little tree-lined avenue on the parched ground, past little old people sitting on benches and silently or holding conversations, keeping each other company, to a hotel concierged by a woman who looked like my mother.
     I asked for a room for the night and she led me to a room overlooking a medieval tower, a room fit for the Queen of Sheba in my opinion, where I spent the night and then passed on to another town on the train the next day.