We bump into a fellow on the street, who tells us how he had heard people talk of a local monastery that used to take in pilgrims. We cannot ignore this perfect hint, so we seek out the place, to make enquiries.
We find its outer doors are shut, but a small hatch swings open through which we duck inside. This building is intense, a great square of apartments, each with its own jagged chimney, surrounding a lush square green and a cathedral-sized chapel. It is an English stone paradise.