Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559, continued
We have a gentle cycle along the coast, as far as the lighthouse north of Alcossebre, and a nose around the marina, The marina is unusual in that whilst is does have a few bars and eating places, open to the public, it is mostly closed to the public and reserved for boat users.
We stop off and have a leisurely lunch of beers and Pizza, at the beach side bar, where the waitress sang happy birthday, when I bought my giant banana split. We have more conversation with her today, in a mixture of English, Spanish and French, and learn she is in fact Romanian.
Kathleen decides to pay for the beers and Pizzas, big whow!, so sorry Bryan (Crick), but it has happened (ie Kathleen buying lunch) and you missed it!, maybe next time.
We cycle back to the site in laid back mood, amusing ourselves by seeing who can cycle up the small hills along the way in the highest gear. Kathleen is in a particularly carefree mood, not sure what has caused that, is it spending her money?, or the lunch time drinks?
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Monday, 3 May 2010
April 30th 2010 – May 3rd 2010
Gava (Barcelona) – Tres Estrellas – ASCI 2010-1603
The site is surprisingly quiet, given the location. It is close to Barcelona Airport and is located between a very busy dual carriageway (C31 going into Barcelona) and a Beach. But neither road noise, nor aircraft noise appears to be a problem. The selling point is that you can get a bus (every 30 minutes) from just outside the gate into Barcelona.
After getting ourselves set up and having something to eat, we walk along to check exactly where the bus stop is, what time the buses are etc etc. It all looks to be pretty straight forward. There is a “working girl” with her plastic chair set up just a few yards from the bus stop, so that at least should provide some entertainment while we wait.
Saturday, and I need to revise my view of the aircraft noise. Presumably, the wind has changed direction, and Jumbo jets are thundering overhead as they take off and head over the sea to gain height. Fortunately we are going out for the day, so it will not bother us. Hopefully the wind will have turned by tomorrow!
We head off for the bus, there is quite a queue or people at the bus stop, mostly from the Campsite.
No sign of the “working girl”, must be too early for her, or maybe she gets weekends off. If she does, I don't suppose she spends the weekend in bed, that would be a sort of busman's holiday wouldn't it?
The bus arrives, 1.40Euro each, for what turns out to be a 45 minute bus journey, not bad compared to home. There is another English couple on board, Kathleen chats to them. Buses here work pretty much the same as at home, ie you press the bell when you get to the stop where you want to get off. This means you have to know where you are going. Aware that we have to find our way back here, I occupy myself with noting landmarks as we travel, including what turns out to be the all important kilometre number near the bus stop.
At some point on the journey a woman in a sophisticated electric wheelchair gets on the bus. This is quite an operation, since the driver has to deploy a slide out ramp, so that she can “drive” the wheelchair onto the bus. This is all done from his cab, but not without much shouting, which seems to be the Spanish way.
The wheel chair looks as if it has been in the Monte Carlo rally, with mud spattered all over the wheels. I cannot help but notice that her shoes also look very scuffed and worn. I glance at Kathleen, who I can see has noted the same thing, and I just know she is thinking the same as me, “how do you wear out your shoes if you are in a wheel chair?”
Our temporary English acquaintances are planning to take the tour bus, none of that simple stuff for us, this is an adventure, and we intend to do it from the map, using our own heads.
We take a chance and get off the bus at what looks a likely stop, Rotanda de Universidad, if that means anything to you, no, I thought not. The lady in the wheel chair also gets off here.
It turns out to be a reasonable choice, we are only a short distance from the “traditional” Gothic Cathedral, which we visit first.
As always seems to be the case when you want to take a photograph, major renovation is underway, complete with large crane.
The lady in the wheelchair is also there, she appears to be well known to the half dozen or so beggars arranged at the door.
We do the tourist thing of wandering around looking at the interior, the woman in the wheelchair is in there too, is she stalking us for having unkind thoughts?
One of the things in the Cathedral is a very ornate horsedrawn carriage. The information notice tells us it is connected to the Sagrada Family, and has something to do with a place called “El Rocio”, which we visited in Southern Spain some four years ago.
Kathleen notices there is a mass in progress, in a side chapel, and she has only missed the first ten minutes. She is able to go to mass, and in a cathedral, so that is double points, she even drags me along, so that is a triple word score. It also means the problem (challenge, sorry), of finding a church, is out of the way for another week.
After mass, we settle in a café for a coffee, and use the opportunity to study our street map.
We decide to explore the area surrounding the Cathedral, which appears to be a network of narrow pedestrian streets and alleys, whilst around the outside perimeter of the Cathedral are a series of quiet cloisters.
In one of the cloisters at the side of the Cathedral, there are some fountains, and a pond with goldfish and geese. Not sure what the significance is, presumably there were a source of food for the priests and monks in past times.
Next we head toward the Port area, but enroute we encounter a very noisy but good natured demonstration.
A few hundred people are marching with placards, and accompanied by a “band”, which seems to consist almost entirely of very loud drums.
The role of the chap at the far right of the picture, with the beard, seems to be to walk backwards and pound his drum as hard as he can, whilst the women in the middle ranks do a sort of Salsa rhythm dance, and those at the back, who have even bigger drums, make a LOT of noise.
I suppose even if their protest is unsuccessful, they may be able to make a claim for industrial deafness.
There is also a chap “locked” in a sort of makeshift prison cell, made of cardboard, painted to look like iron bars, again complete with placards.
Obviously the placards are all in Spanish, but as far as I can tell:
the chap “locked” in the prison cell is a protest against the banks, bankers and third world debt,
and
the rest of it is a demonstration by the Spanish equivalent of Unison, protesting against the credit crunch, privatisation and public spending cuts.
I am not sure the protest will do them any good, but it certainly seems like good fun, and given the low profile police prescence, they are not anticipating any serious trouble.
We make our way to the former harbour area, most of which now seems to have become an upmarket marina complex, which seems to be the pattern in most cities with former dockyards, these days.
There are some very large and expensive looking boats berthed here, probably owned by Bankers, and third world leaders, maybe the protesters will come to the Marina?.
A craft market in full swing (what joy).
Fortunately it is getting near lunch time, so we do not stay too long.
Next we head for La Rambla.
Although I have heard La Rambla mentioned, by just about everyone who has been to Barcelona, I have no idea what to expect.
It is a long, tree lined, colourful, pedestrianised street, with hundreds of people strolling about.
There are stalls selling everything from live chickens to Messi football shirts, as well as pavement cafes.
The surrounding streets are narrow and quaint, with numerous bars, shops and eating places.
We choose a café for Lunch. Kathleen not being the most adventurous eater has Tortilla (ie omelette with potato in it), whilst I have Calamari, accompanied of course by the inevitable bottle of wine.
It is great fun to sit eating our lunch and watching the street scenes unfold. There are acrobats, jugglers, and people pretending to be statues.
This couple were sitting next to us, and had enormous glasses of beer. They must have been at least a litre, but perhaps more, and they appeared to be there for the duration.
The "entertainment" is totally informal. Someone just stops walking along, and begins juggling with Indian Clubs, or perhaps a little group of two or three begin doing acrobatics on the pavement.
Obviously they are doing it for money, and a collection is mounted at the end of the display, but it is all very low key, and if they begin to pester the diners and drinkers too much, the waiters shoo them away, but no one gets uptight, and it is all very jolly.
There is even a little group of hustlers with the three matchbox trick.
At one point two policemen on motor scooters arrive to arrest them. They are too quick for the police and spirit away their equipment to an accomplice, who disappears in the crowd, then the other two pretend to just be strolling along with the crowd. Their pockets are searched, but nothing is found of course. The Police depart and within ten minutes, they are back fleecing gullible passers by.
After lunch, the plan is to visit the unfinished Guidi Cathedral, via the city park.
As we stroll through the myriad of small streets, we hear violin music.
In a small courtyard off the street we are walking along a young chap is giving an informal violin recital.
In one corner of the square are steps to some civic building, and he has an audience sitting on the steps listening.
We join the small crowd of listeners on the steps and enjoy the music for a while.
At one point a small council street sweeper / refuse van enters the square.
Kathleen goes across to make a request (Meditation), but he did not have it on his backing music, so could not play it. Instead he talks her into buying a CD of his Violin music. We listen to it when we get back to the van, it is very pleasant.
Perhaps they built it just in case, but then again, given the manyana culture here it seems unlikely.
One complaint about Barcelona, there appears to be a shortage of public toilets, either that or they hide the signposts to them.
As we make our way toward the Guidi Cathedral, we pass a petrol station, with a toilet visible.
Unfortunately it is locked, but the kindly young man sweeping the forecourt takes pity on a desperate pensioner and loans Kathleen the key, without expecting her to buy a gallon of petrol.
Guidi’s Cathedral is unlike anything we have ever seen anywhere.
Unfortunately because it is not finished, there are cranes and scaffolding to spoil the view.
At one side it looks like a traditional Cathedral, but as you look at it from left to right, it becomes a sort of fantasy building of rounded towers and features which look as if they have been made of slightly molten candlewax.
Over the main door, is the story of the crucifixion starting with the last supper, then the Garden of Gethsemene and the stations of the cross in sculptures.
I don’t want to turn this into a toilet blog, but for any future deperate visitors, there is a public toilet opposite Guidi’s Cathedral.
It highlights a problem however with public toilets.
When you enter the toilet, the light comes on automatically, but it only stays on for a limited time.
If you have been waiting a long time and your need takes longer than the light timer, you are plunged into darkness.
A tip, flushing the toilet puts the light back on! Easier for a man, than a woman of course (think about it). So our new term now is “a one light wee, or a two light wee”.
All we have to do now is find the bus stop to get back to the campsite.
I manage to navigate us back to the general area where we got off the bus, but we cannot find the bus stop. Kathleen so far has been “very good”, and has shown patience in waiting for me to consult the map (she has left her glasses back at the van, so I am in charge of the map).
The concern is that after 19:00 the buses run less frequently, and it is now 18:15.
Kathleen cannot keep up the being patient, and starts marching on ahead, so we circle the bus stop several times without actually finding it. But success at last, we arrive at the bus stop, just as “our” bus pulls in.
We even manage to get off at the correct place, thanks to my noting of the kilometre number (I am just too smart).
We may not have done the standard tourist thing, and I am sure we have missed numerous famous museums and grand buildings, but we have had a wonderful day, in Barcelona. It is a great place, I would recommend a visit.
Sunday, is a lazy day, to recover from all of the walking of yesterday. The wind has not changed direction, and jumbo jets continue to thunder overhead as they climb over the sea.
The teabags, get only one mention.
Sunday overnight, the weather changes, it pours with rain all night.
Just for those of you who thought we never have a bad day, Monday is such a day. We have to pack everything up in pouring rain.
It would never have been a pleasant drive around Barcelona, but in pouring rain, with a cloud of spray thrown up by the heavy lorries, it is even more dismal.
The rain continues for the whole journey.
We arrive at our next site, still raining.
Sant Pere Pescador - Aquarius - ACSI 2010-1660
This site was recommended to us about four years ago, when we were making our first ever Campervan trip to France, by a couple called David and Kay.
So far the recommendation appears to be well founded.
But the rain has not let up for a minute, it is now 20:45 and still pouring down!
Sorry it is such a long post to read, but we have had no WiFi for several days, it is free here!
The site is surprisingly quiet, given the location. It is close to Barcelona Airport and is located between a very busy dual carriageway (C31 going into Barcelona) and a Beach. But neither road noise, nor aircraft noise appears to be a problem. The selling point is that you can get a bus (every 30 minutes) from just outside the gate into Barcelona.
After getting ourselves set up and having something to eat, we walk along to check exactly where the bus stop is, what time the buses are etc etc. It all looks to be pretty straight forward. There is a “working girl” with her plastic chair set up just a few yards from the bus stop, so that at least should provide some entertainment while we wait.
Saturday, and I need to revise my view of the aircraft noise. Presumably, the wind has changed direction, and Jumbo jets are thundering overhead as they take off and head over the sea to gain height. Fortunately we are going out for the day, so it will not bother us. Hopefully the wind will have turned by tomorrow!
We head off for the bus, there is quite a queue or people at the bus stop, mostly from the Campsite.
No sign of the “working girl”, must be too early for her, or maybe she gets weekends off. If she does, I don't suppose she spends the weekend in bed, that would be a sort of busman's holiday wouldn't it?
The bus arrives, 1.40Euro each, for what turns out to be a 45 minute bus journey, not bad compared to home. There is another English couple on board, Kathleen chats to them. Buses here work pretty much the same as at home, ie you press the bell when you get to the stop where you want to get off. This means you have to know where you are going. Aware that we have to find our way back here, I occupy myself with noting landmarks as we travel, including what turns out to be the all important kilometre number near the bus stop.
At some point on the journey a woman in a sophisticated electric wheelchair gets on the bus. This is quite an operation, since the driver has to deploy a slide out ramp, so that she can “drive” the wheelchair onto the bus. This is all done from his cab, but not without much shouting, which seems to be the Spanish way.
The wheel chair looks as if it has been in the Monte Carlo rally, with mud spattered all over the wheels. I cannot help but notice that her shoes also look very scuffed and worn. I glance at Kathleen, who I can see has noted the same thing, and I just know she is thinking the same as me, “how do you wear out your shoes if you are in a wheel chair?”
Our temporary English acquaintances are planning to take the tour bus, none of that simple stuff for us, this is an adventure, and we intend to do it from the map, using our own heads.
We take a chance and get off the bus at what looks a likely stop, Rotanda de Universidad, if that means anything to you, no, I thought not. The lady in the wheel chair also gets off here.
As always seems to be the case when you want to take a photograph, major renovation is underway, complete with large crane.
The lady in the wheelchair is also there, she appears to be well known to the half dozen or so beggars arranged at the door.
We do the tourist thing of wandering around looking at the interior, the woman in the wheelchair is in there too, is she stalking us for having unkind thoughts?
One of the things in the Cathedral is a very ornate horsedrawn carriage. The information notice tells us it is connected to the Sagrada Family, and has something to do with a place called “El Rocio”, which we visited in Southern Spain some four years ago.
Kathleen notices there is a mass in progress, in a side chapel, and she has only missed the first ten minutes. She is able to go to mass, and in a cathedral, so that is double points, she even drags me along, so that is a triple word score. It also means the problem (challenge, sorry), of finding a church, is out of the way for another week.
We decide to explore the area surrounding the Cathedral, which appears to be a network of narrow pedestrian streets and alleys, whilst around the outside perimeter of the Cathedral are a series of quiet cloisters.
In one of the cloisters at the side of the Cathedral, there are some fountains, and a pond with goldfish and geese. Not sure what the significance is, presumably there were a source of food for the priests and monks in past times.
A few hundred people are marching with placards, and accompanied by a “band”, which seems to consist almost entirely of very loud drums.
The role of the chap at the far right of the picture, with the beard, seems to be to walk backwards and pound his drum as hard as he can, whilst the women in the middle ranks do a sort of Salsa rhythm dance, and those at the back, who have even bigger drums, make a LOT of noise.
I suppose even if their protest is unsuccessful, they may be able to make a claim for industrial deafness.
There is also a chap “locked” in a sort of makeshift prison cell, made of cardboard, painted to look like iron bars, again complete with placards. the chap “locked” in the prison cell is a protest against the banks, bankers and third world debt,
and
the rest of it is a demonstration by the Spanish equivalent of Unison, protesting against the credit crunch, privatisation and public spending cuts.
I am not sure the protest will do them any good, but it certainly seems like good fun, and given the low profile police prescence, they are not anticipating any serious trouble.We make our way to the former harbour area, most of which now seems to have become an upmarket marina complex, which seems to be the pattern in most cities with former dockyards, these days.
There are some very large and expensive looking boats berthed here, probably owned by Bankers, and third world leaders, maybe the protesters will come to the Marina?.
A craft market in full swing (what joy).
Fortunately it is getting near lunch time, so we do not stay too long.
Although I have heard La Rambla mentioned, by just about everyone who has been to Barcelona, I have no idea what to expect.
It is a long, tree lined, colourful, pedestrianised street, with hundreds of people strolling about.
There are stalls selling everything from live chickens to Messi football shirts, as well as pavement cafes.
The surrounding streets are narrow and quaint, with numerous bars, shops and eating places.
It is great fun to sit eating our lunch and watching the street scenes unfold. There are acrobats, jugglers, and people pretending to be statues.
This couple were sitting next to us, and had enormous glasses of beer. They must have been at least a litre, but perhaps more, and they appeared to be there for the duration.
Obviously they are doing it for money, and a collection is mounted at the end of the display, but it is all very low key, and if they begin to pester the diners and drinkers too much, the waiters shoo them away, but no one gets uptight, and it is all very jolly.
There is even a little group of hustlers with the three matchbox trick.
At one point two policemen on motor scooters arrive to arrest them. They are too quick for the police and spirit away their equipment to an accomplice, who disappears in the crowd, then the other two pretend to just be strolling along with the crowd. Their pockets are searched, but nothing is found of course. The Police depart and within ten minutes, they are back fleecing gullible passers by.
As we stroll through the myriad of small streets, we hear violin music.
In a small courtyard off the street we are walking along a young chap is giving an informal violin recital.
In one corner of the square are steps to some civic building, and he has an audience sitting on the steps listening.
We join the small crowd of listeners on the steps and enjoy the music for a while.
At one point a small council street sweeper / refuse van enters the square.
The driver realises he is disturbing the performance, does a U-Turn, pauses in front of the musician drives in a little wiggle, and exits the square, allowing the "concert to continue undisturbed.
The musician bows to him, and the audience applaud.
Kathleen goes across to make a request (Meditation), but he did not have it on his backing music, so could not play it. Instead he talks her into buying a CD of his Violin music. We listen to it when we get back to the van, it is very pleasant.
Eventually, we continue on our way to find the Gaudi Cathedral.
First we come to the very impressive Arc de Triomf, which is at the start of a long avenue leading into the Parc de la Ciutadella (city park).
I am not sure quite what the reason is for this beautiful arch, there is no plaque or explanation as far as I can see.
From the history I was taught at school, I do not know when the Spanish last had a victory to celebrate, it must have been before the Armada.
Unless of course you are talking about football.
Perhaps they built it just in case, but then again, given the manyana culture here it seems unlikely.One complaint about Barcelona, there appears to be a shortage of public toilets, either that or they hide the signposts to them.
As we make our way toward the Guidi Cathedral, we pass a petrol station, with a toilet visible.
Unfortunately it is locked, but the kindly young man sweeping the forecourt takes pity on a desperate pensioner and loans Kathleen the key, without expecting her to buy a gallon of petrol.
Unfortunately because it is not finished, there are cranes and scaffolding to spoil the view.
At one side it looks like a traditional Cathedral, but as you look at it from left to right, it becomes a sort of fantasy building of rounded towers and features which look as if they have been made of slightly molten candlewax.
I don’t want to turn this into a toilet blog, but for any future deperate visitors, there is a public toilet opposite Guidi’s Cathedral.
It highlights a problem however with public toilets.
When you enter the toilet, the light comes on automatically, but it only stays on for a limited time.
If you have been waiting a long time and your need takes longer than the light timer, you are plunged into darkness.
A tip, flushing the toilet puts the light back on! Easier for a man, than a woman of course (think about it). So our new term now is “a one light wee, or a two light wee”.
All we have to do now is find the bus stop to get back to the campsite.
I manage to navigate us back to the general area where we got off the bus, but we cannot find the bus stop. Kathleen so far has been “very good”, and has shown patience in waiting for me to consult the map (she has left her glasses back at the van, so I am in charge of the map).
The concern is that after 19:00 the buses run less frequently, and it is now 18:15.
Kathleen cannot keep up the being patient, and starts marching on ahead, so we circle the bus stop several times without actually finding it. But success at last, we arrive at the bus stop, just as “our” bus pulls in.
We even manage to get off at the correct place, thanks to my noting of the kilometre number (I am just too smart).
We may not have done the standard tourist thing, and I am sure we have missed numerous famous museums and grand buildings, but we have had a wonderful day, in Barcelona. It is a great place, I would recommend a visit.
Sunday, is a lazy day, to recover from all of the walking of yesterday. The wind has not changed direction, and jumbo jets continue to thunder overhead as they climb over the sea.
The teabags, get only one mention.
Sunday overnight, the weather changes, it pours with rain all night.
Just for those of you who thought we never have a bad day, Monday is such a day. We have to pack everything up in pouring rain.
It would never have been a pleasant drive around Barcelona, but in pouring rain, with a cloud of spray thrown up by the heavy lorries, it is even more dismal.
The rain continues for the whole journey.
We arrive at our next site, still raining.
Sant Pere Pescador - Aquarius - ACSI 2010-1660
This site was recommended to us about four years ago, when we were making our first ever Campervan trip to France, by a couple called David and Kay.
So far the recommendation appears to be well founded.
But the rain has not let up for a minute, it is now 20:45 and still pouring down!
Sorry it is such a long post to read, but we have had no WiFi for several days, it is free here!
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
April 28th 2010
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559, continued
We get ourselves out on our bicycles before it becomes too hot. It is in my mind to try cycling along the coast on minor roads / tracks to Peniscola, which according to my calculations is about ten miles north of where we are.
The first three miles are easy going, along paved roads and paths, but then (after the lighthouse to the north of Alcossebre), it becomes a fairly rough track, more suited to a mountain bike really, plus it is very up and down.
Only two mentions of Liptons tea bags, but then again, we had only one cup of tea today!
We get ourselves out on our bicycles before it becomes too hot. It is in my mind to try cycling along the coast on minor roads / tracks to Peniscola, which according to my calculations is about ten miles north of where we are.
The first three miles are easy going, along paved roads and paths, but then (after the lighthouse to the north of Alcossebre), it becomes a fairly rough track, more suited to a mountain bike really, plus it is very up and down.
We pass the other camp site from the ACSI book (Ribamar - 1560), not a good bet this, it might have decent facilities, but it is in the middle of nowhere and at least 3Km along a rough unmade track.
We soldier on but at 6 miles, there is no built up area visible further along the coast, and there is dissent in the ranks.
We turn around and head back. This is certainly the more upmarket part of the resort, with a good promenade along the beach and some rather smart properties.
At the first bar, we stop for a cooling glass of Rose, then decide to have an ice cream. Kathleen settles for a fairly mundane strawberry ice cream, but predictably I go for an enormous banana split, with three flavours of icecream, cream etc etc. The waitress actually sings "happy birthday" to me when she brings it, even although it is not my birthday of course.
After lunch we spend the afternoon at the beach, it is a hard life.
April 27th 2010
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559, continued
The last Asda teabag was used last night, so far there have been three mentions of how crap the French bought Lipton teabags are, otherwise not a word of complaint.
I always fall prey to insect bites, and given that the weather has now warmed up nicely, there is no shortage of biting insects. Kathleen has been coating herself in "Avon Skin so Soft", which, we have been told in the past is an effective insect repellent, although it is not intended as such. Apparently even soldiers use the stuff, when they are in tropical climates, it is so effective.
It is doubly effective for Kathleen, since I am usually somewhere near to her, and not coated in "Skin so Soft" (because she hides it away for herself), so the insects feast on me and not her. To add to the problem, we have an ultra-violet insect killer (which I might say is not terribly effective). It it re-chargable, but during one of her "tidying up" exercises (for which read, move things from where I put them, to somewhere else), the charger has been moved, and now, despite the fact it is somewhere in the van, we cannot find it.
After yesterdays exertions, I do not think we will be doing anything too energetic today.
Today is hairdressing day, ie the full works, washing, drying straightening etc etc.
We walk to the supermarket, yes, you guessed it, because the cycle helmet will mess up the hair.
Then we lie about in the sun.
I summon the energy for a half hour cycle ride along the coast, then we play badmington for a little while, but it is too hot for serious exertion. Perhaps a game of boules after tea might be an idea.
Excitement extends to watching a giant grasshopper as it climbs about in the hedge alongside our pitch.
Our English neighbours are gearing up to leave. They have not been unfriendly, simply reserved, and have (as they say) kept themselves to themselves. Kathleen had observed, to me, that they must have been away from home for some time, since they are well sun tanned (particularly the wife of the pair). Well, seeing that they were packing to go Kathleen made a special effort to talk to them (and of course extract as much information as possible). I was away washing the dishes, but joined in the conversation, briefly, as I walked past with the (washed) dishes. During this brief chat I noted the reason for the wife's "good tan", was that she was in fact brown skinned. I wandered back to the van to put away the dishes, having decided to mention to Kathleen (on her return), the reason for the tan. Too late, on her return, Kathleen told me she had committed the faux-pas of saying "you must have been away from the UK for a long time, you have a great sun tan", a special McCaffery moment, don't you agree?
The last Asda teabag was used last night, so far there have been three mentions of how crap the French bought Lipton teabags are, otherwise not a word of complaint.
I always fall prey to insect bites, and given that the weather has now warmed up nicely, there is no shortage of biting insects. Kathleen has been coating herself in "Avon Skin so Soft", which, we have been told in the past is an effective insect repellent, although it is not intended as such. Apparently even soldiers use the stuff, when they are in tropical climates, it is so effective.
It is doubly effective for Kathleen, since I am usually somewhere near to her, and not coated in "Skin so Soft" (because she hides it away for herself), so the insects feast on me and not her. To add to the problem, we have an ultra-violet insect killer (which I might say is not terribly effective). It it re-chargable, but during one of her "tidying up" exercises (for which read, move things from where I put them, to somewhere else), the charger has been moved, and now, despite the fact it is somewhere in the van, we cannot find it.
After yesterdays exertions, I do not think we will be doing anything too energetic today.
Today is hairdressing day, ie the full works, washing, drying straightening etc etc.
We walk to the supermarket, yes, you guessed it, because the cycle helmet will mess up the hair.
Then we lie about in the sun.
I summon the energy for a half hour cycle ride along the coast, then we play badmington for a little while, but it is too hot for serious exertion. Perhaps a game of boules after tea might be an idea.
Our English neighbours are gearing up to leave. They have not been unfriendly, simply reserved, and have (as they say) kept themselves to themselves. Kathleen had observed, to me, that they must have been away from home for some time, since they are well sun tanned (particularly the wife of the pair). Well, seeing that they were packing to go Kathleen made a special effort to talk to them (and of course extract as much information as possible). I was away washing the dishes, but joined in the conversation, briefly, as I walked past with the (washed) dishes. During this brief chat I noted the reason for the wife's "good tan", was that she was in fact brown skinned. I wandered back to the van to put away the dishes, having decided to mention to Kathleen (on her return), the reason for the tan. Too late, on her return, Kathleen told me she had committed the faux-pas of saying "you must have been away from the UK for a long time, you have a great sun tan", a special McCaffery moment, don't you agree?
Monday, 26 April 2010
April 26th 2010
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559, continued
The day begins with clear blue sky and bright sunshine, great, we can "do" the cycle ride to Alcala de Xivert, from the booklet we got from Tourist Information.
We pack our sandwiches, and a drink, and off we go.
Before continuing, I should explain that the booklet gives the following information (and I quote):
Difficulty: Leisurely
Type of Route: Flat, Road
Length: 16km (10 miles)
Duration: 1hr 45Min
The following is how the route is decribed (and again I quote).
"Leaving from Alcosserre towards Alacal de Xivert along the national highway go around the roundabout and leave the Tossalet Hostel on your left, and then continue on under the bridge at the turn off to Capicorb. About 300m further on, turn right onto a dirt road that initially runs parallel to the Valencia-Barcelona railway line, only pass under the railway line various times along the way. Then the route continues for various kilometres along flatish land, and then borders the Estopet Ravine, and ventures on to the outskirts of the mountains of the Sierra De Irta Nature Park. Leaving behind the Espopet Ravine, you first come to Frenchmans Cross and then the Calvary Chapel, then enter Alcal De Xivert."
A point to note, the time given to complete the route is 1hr 45min, this automatically means that Kathleen expects to do it in 1hr maximum.
We set off, and all goes according to plan.
We come to the bridge, find the dirt road, and set off along it.
It is a little bit rough, but soon the surface improves and becomes tarmac. It is more or less flat.
We pass under the railway line a couple of times, no problem, we are cycling between fields planted with Orange trees and Olive trees.
We see hardly anyone, just a few people working in the fields. It is very hot (25C).
Then we come to the bit where it says "borders the Estopet Ravine". Wrong. It does not "border" the ravine (which by the way is a mini Grand Canyon), the route goes down into the ravine, (very nice free wheeling for a half a mile) and then up the other side, (not so nice).
It gets worse.
The day begins with clear blue sky and bright sunshine, great, we can "do" the cycle ride to Alcala de Xivert, from the booklet we got from Tourist Information.
We pack our sandwiches, and a drink, and off we go.
Before continuing, I should explain that the booklet gives the following information (and I quote):
Difficulty: Leisurely
Type of Route: Flat, Road
Length: 16km (10 miles)
Duration: 1hr 45Min
The following is how the route is decribed (and again I quote).
"Leaving from Alcosserre towards Alacal de Xivert along the national highway go around the roundabout and leave the Tossalet Hostel on your left, and then continue on under the bridge at the turn off to Capicorb. About 300m further on, turn right onto a dirt road that initially runs parallel to the Valencia-Barcelona railway line, only pass under the railway line various times along the way. Then the route continues for various kilometres along flatish land, and then borders the Estopet Ravine, and ventures on to the outskirts of the mountains of the Sierra De Irta Nature Park. Leaving behind the Espopet Ravine, you first come to Frenchmans Cross and then the Calvary Chapel, then enter Alcal De Xivert."
A point to note, the time given to complete the route is 1hr 45min, this automatically means that Kathleen expects to do it in 1hr maximum.
We come to the bridge, find the dirt road, and set off along it.
It is a little bit rough, but soon the surface improves and becomes tarmac. It is more or less flat.
We pass under the railway line a couple of times, no problem, we are cycling between fields planted with Orange trees and Olive trees.
We see hardly anyone, just a few people working in the fields. It is very hot (25C).
Then we come to the bit where it says "borders the Estopet Ravine". Wrong. It does not "border" the ravine (which by the way is a mini Grand Canyon), the route goes down into the ravine, (very nice free wheeling for a half a mile) and then up the other side, (not so nice).
This our view from almost the top of the otherside of the ravine.
But credit where credit is due, there is not a word of complaint, well, that is not quite right, but only a couple of words.
Then we come to the bit where it says "ventures on to the outskirts of the mountains of the Sierra De Irta Nature Park", ventures on to the outskirts!, it goes right over the bl***y top of the mountain!
By now we have done about 9 miles, and we are not going to turn back, so eventually we make it to Alcala de Xivert, it has taken us 2hrs 15minutes to do the 11 miles.
I can only conclude that the person who translated the route from Spanish into English, did not know the words "up", "big" or "hill", so just used the words they did know, ie flat.
It gets worse.
Kathleen's reason for coming here was to see the inside of what we are told is an impressive church. We find the church is closed on Mondays, and the doors are locked. The tourist information office is also closed
We sit and have our sandwiches in the square infront of the church, which you can see here. Not sure what the banner is about.
Deciding that having pedalled this far, we may as well have a look around, we wander around the town. That is it, apart from the church, there appears to be nothing else to see.
We eventually find a bar and retire to it. Here mutiny breaks out. Some of the other routes in the Tourist Information booklet are actually decribed as "Difficult", god knows what they must be like. Kathleen says she is not doing anymore cycle rides from the Tourist Information book and she is not going back the way we have come. So we opt to go back along the N340, risking death by juggernaut as opposed to death by heart attack, altitude sickness, dehydration, exhaustion or a combination of all of these.
Fortunately, it now being about 14:30, the road is fairly quiet, all sensible people are having a siesta, and there is a fairly wide hard shoulder to the road for most of the way.
The return journey, is "only" 9 miles, so in total, the round trip is 20 miles.
We return to find we have some new 
English neighbours, they have bicycles on the back of the camper van. We ponder should we warn them about the Tourist Information book?, no, more fun to keep quiet.
English neighbours, they have bicycles on the back of the camper van. We ponder should we warn them about the Tourist Information book?, no, more fun to keep quiet.
We retire to the beach, which is just at the entrance to the campsite.
As you can see, we have it just about all to ourselves, there are only three of four other people dotted about the beach.
We chill, and I read my book.
As you can see below, Kathleen is same pose, different surroundings.
Sunday, 25 April 2010
April 24th 2010 - April 25th 2010
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559, continued
Using the diagram drawn by the young chap at reception we attempt to find the church. I suppose we should be grateful that he tried to help, but we soon find the diagram is not much help. After leaving the campsite it directs us to turn right and continue for 2km. Since we are pedalling along the shore, with the sea on our right, we would literally be in deep water if we followed that instruction. It is clear the diagram is drawn in mirror image, ie left equals right, and right equals left!
After riding for about 5km, we give up on the instructions and return to Alcossebre to the Tourist Information office. Here we get a street map with the church marked, and a booklet of walks and cycle rides for future use.
Even using the street map, we cannot find the church. We eventually ask a passing Spanish man, who in turn enlists the aid of a passing Spanish woman. From her we get the vital clue to how to find the church "Porta blanca" she tells us, which I interpret as "white door". Now the penny drops, we have ridden past the church at least three times, without recognising it as a church. It is a modern building with a big white surround to the door. So mission accomplished we retire to a beachfront bar.
We return to the site, having pedalled almost 11 miles looking for, and evetually finding the church.
After lunch we are lazing in the sun (as shown left), reading etc, when the arrival of a caravan towed by a car with Dutch number plates causes much excitement and hugging among our German neighbours.
As best we can understand, the new arrivals are (German?) friends of those around us. The driver of the car we are told is 85 years old, and is called Jacob, his wife, is 89, her name we are not sure of.
Due to an administrative foul up by campsite reception, their pitch has been wrongly booked. They have apparently been coming here to meet up with the rest of then for many years, and always have the pitch where we are parked.
The fact that "their" pitch is occupied (by us) seems to be causing them great concern, even although there is another empty pitch just a few yards along the road.
We offer to move pitch, and allow them to have "their" pitch, since it makes no real difference to us, but clearly means a lot to them. Let us face it, at 85 and 89, and having driven all of the way from Holland or Germany towing a caravan, it does not seem unreasonable to indulge them.
Our German neighbours insist in pitching in and helping move our stuff, and in directing me in manoevering off the existing pitch, and onto the new one. Since this whole operation is executed in a mix of German and English, it goes surprisingly smoothly.
They do seem keen to get rid of us, to next door to a Belgian couple.
Kathleen gets a big hug from Jacob, for allowing them to have "their" pitch.
Afterwards talking about it together, Kathleen and I both mention the fact that Jacob sounds like a distinctly Jewish name. Now I know, like Basil Fawlty, we should not mention the war. But it does seem rather odd don't you think. Perhaps they were on Schindlers List (yes, I know, in bad taste, but I could not resist it).
Having done our bit to foster peace and harmony in Europe, the rest of the afternoon is spent in using Skype to contact those of the children who are contactable.
Sunday, Kathleen is off to church. I find a newsagent selling English Newspapers, and catch up on the General Election saga, very missable. Followed by lunch at a beach side restaurant. I have a seafood starter, pasta, prawns, mussels, squid, and some other sea related things I cannot identify, but very nice, followed by fresh Tuna. Kathleen sticks to very English chicken and chips, followed by the biggest sweet on the menu, plus of course a very nice bottle of Rose wine.
In the afternoon, Kathleen decides to do some washing, and discovers where the washing up sinks are whilst searching for the washing machines.
Using the diagram drawn by the young chap at reception we attempt to find the church. I suppose we should be grateful that he tried to help, but we soon find the diagram is not much help. After leaving the campsite it directs us to turn right and continue for 2km. Since we are pedalling along the shore, with the sea on our right, we would literally be in deep water if we followed that instruction. It is clear the diagram is drawn in mirror image, ie left equals right, and right equals left!
After riding for about 5km, we give up on the instructions and return to Alcossebre to the Tourist Information office. Here we get a street map with the church marked, and a booklet of walks and cycle rides for future use.
Even using the street map, we cannot find the church. We eventually ask a passing Spanish man, who in turn enlists the aid of a passing Spanish woman. From her we get the vital clue to how to find the church "Porta blanca" she tells us, which I interpret as "white door". Now the penny drops, we have ridden past the church at least three times, without recognising it as a church. It is a modern building with a big white surround to the door. So mission accomplished we retire to a beachfront bar.
After lunch we are lazing in the sun (as shown left), reading etc, when the arrival of a caravan towed by a car with Dutch number plates causes much excitement and hugging among our German neighbours.
As best we can understand, the new arrivals are (German?) friends of those around us. The driver of the car we are told is 85 years old, and is called Jacob, his wife, is 89, her name we are not sure of.
Due to an administrative foul up by campsite reception, their pitch has been wrongly booked. They have apparently been coming here to meet up with the rest of then for many years, and always have the pitch where we are parked.
The fact that "their" pitch is occupied (by us) seems to be causing them great concern, even although there is another empty pitch just a few yards along the road.
We offer to move pitch, and allow them to have "their" pitch, since it makes no real difference to us, but clearly means a lot to them. Let us face it, at 85 and 89, and having driven all of the way from Holland or Germany towing a caravan, it does not seem unreasonable to indulge them.
Our German neighbours insist in pitching in and helping move our stuff, and in directing me in manoevering off the existing pitch, and onto the new one. Since this whole operation is executed in a mix of German and English, it goes surprisingly smoothly.
They do seem keen to get rid of us, to next door to a Belgian couple.
Kathleen gets a big hug from Jacob, for allowing them to have "their" pitch.
Afterwards talking about it together, Kathleen and I both mention the fact that Jacob sounds like a distinctly Jewish name. Now I know, like Basil Fawlty, we should not mention the war. But it does seem rather odd don't you think. Perhaps they were on Schindlers List (yes, I know, in bad taste, but I could not resist it).
Having done our bit to foster peace and harmony in Europe, the rest of the afternoon is spent in using Skype to contact those of the children who are contactable.
Sunday, Kathleen is off to church. I find a newsagent selling English Newspapers, and catch up on the General Election saga, very missable. Followed by lunch at a beach side restaurant. I have a seafood starter, pasta, prawns, mussels, squid, and some other sea related things I cannot identify, but very nice, followed by fresh Tuna. Kathleen sticks to very English chicken and chips, followed by the biggest sweet on the menu, plus of course a very nice bottle of Rose wine.
In the afternoon, Kathleen decides to do some washing, and discovers where the washing up sinks are whilst searching for the washing machines.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
April 21st 2010 – April 23nd 2010
Kathleen has a solution to the tea bag problem. A message to Phillippa and she has arranged for the tea bags to be collected from our house and delivered to Joan and Bryan, who will courier them across Europe, to deliver them to us when we meet up in France. Operation tea bag is now in progress.
Liguerre de Cinca (Huesca) – Liguerre de Cinca – ASCI2010-1622
We travel through Rioja wine country en route to the next site which is beside a man made lake (which is a reservoir) in the hills north east of Huesca.
As we approach, we think we may have made a big mistake, as we are heading steadily towards mountains which are covered in snow half way down their slopes. But when we arrive at the site it is positively stifling hot.
There are not many people here, it is obviously early in the season, one German van, and two Dutch vans (yes, those Dutch do get everywhere).
The surrounding countryside is beautiful, and there is hardly a sound except the birds.
There is a scenic walk to the village, along the lake, we sampled a little of it this afternoon after we arrived and plan to do the whole thing (3Km each way) tomorrow, provided we are not snowed in.
It does not snow so, we make the walk. It is beautiful and so peaceful, a bit like walking in the lake district but with more trees, and less people (we see no one). The village (Liguerre de Cinca) is very well restored, but deserted, we see one woman and three cats. Even the bar is closed, which is not much of a welcome when you have walked 3Km to get there!
In the afternoon, the Irish couple who we met briefly at Pamplona arrived, they must be following us.
I joked a few days ago about them getting the bus back from Pamplona. It turned out that what happened was, they got the bus into Pamplona. Had a bit explore, and then had themselves a meal with wine etc, followed by a few more drinks, missed the last bus back. So they decided to walk, setting off at 22:00, when it was pitch black. They had a few adventures getting lost in the dark, at one stage they even encountered a couple of Spanish policemen. When they explained in their pigeon Spanish that they were having difficulty finding their way back to the campsite, they said they could not help them. Anyway, they made it eventually, and are none the worse for the experience, as always, these things are funny after the event!
We have overnight rain, not heavy, and gone by morning, but enough to soak our chairs, Kathleen decides to dry them using an item of clothing from the dirty washing bag, it just happens to be one of my shirts.
We get an early start, about 09:30, because we have quite a long drive today (300km), along mostly single carriageway roads. The Tomtom does the navigating, all goes well except around Lerida, where they have built or I should say are in the process of building, a whole new motorway and ring road, which are not in our Tomtom, map. It just so happens Kathleen is driving at that point so she gets a couple of wrong turns, and some tight turning around manoeuvres in a housing estate, as well as a trip through Lerida Centre, complete with suicidal pedestrians.
We stop at just outside a place called Flix for lunch, at a well kept picnic place beside the River Ebro. There is even a supermarket just across the road, where Kathleen is able to buy a bottle of Larios Gin, just to get into the Spanish spirit so to speak. We arrive at Alcossebre at about 16:00.
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559
First impressions are that this was a good choice, It is quite a large site, the sort of place where people spend the winter.
It is just about on the beach, you can hear the waves on the beach from our van, and everything seems to be in good order. It so happens that the pitch we choose is in the German quarter, and we have German and Belgian neighbours. We later find there is an English quarter, but we opt to stay where we are.
We have a quick explore before our evening meal, and manage a seven mile cycle along the coast, we do not find the church so that is a task for tomorrow.
Liguerre de Cinca (Huesca) – Liguerre de Cinca – ASCI2010-1622
We travel through Rioja wine country en route to the next site which is beside a man made lake (which is a reservoir) in the hills north east of Huesca.
As we approach, we think we may have made a big mistake, as we are heading steadily towards mountains which are covered in snow half way down their slopes. But when we arrive at the site it is positively stifling hot.
There are not many people here, it is obviously early in the season, one German van, and two Dutch vans (yes, those Dutch do get everywhere).
There is a scenic walk to the village, along the lake, we sampled a little of it this afternoon after we arrived and plan to do the whole thing (3Km each way) tomorrow, provided we are not snowed in.It does not snow so, we make the walk. It is beautiful and so peaceful, a bit like walking in the lake district but with more trees, and less people (we see no one). The village (Liguerre de Cinca) is very well restored, but deserted, we see one woman and three cats. Even the bar is closed, which is not much of a welcome when you have walked 3Km to get there!
I joked a few days ago about them getting the bus back from Pamplona. It turned out that what happened was, they got the bus into Pamplona. Had a bit explore, and then had themselves a meal with wine etc, followed by a few more drinks, missed the last bus back. So they decided to walk, setting off at 22:00, when it was pitch black. They had a few adventures getting lost in the dark, at one stage they even encountered a couple of Spanish policemen. When they explained in their pigeon Spanish that they were having difficulty finding their way back to the campsite, they said they could not help them. Anyway, they made it eventually, and are none the worse for the experience, as always, these things are funny after the event!
We have overnight rain, not heavy, and gone by morning, but enough to soak our chairs, Kathleen decides to dry them using an item of clothing from the dirty washing bag, it just happens to be one of my shirts.
We get an early start, about 09:30, because we have quite a long drive today (300km), along mostly single carriageway roads. The Tomtom does the navigating, all goes well except around Lerida, where they have built or I should say are in the process of building, a whole new motorway and ring road, which are not in our Tomtom, map. It just so happens Kathleen is driving at that point so she gets a couple of wrong turns, and some tight turning around manoeuvres in a housing estate, as well as a trip through Lerida Centre, complete with suicidal pedestrians.
We stop at just outside a place called Flix for lunch, at a well kept picnic place beside the River Ebro. There is even a supermarket just across the road, where Kathleen is able to buy a bottle of Larios Gin, just to get into the Spanish spirit so to speak. We arrive at Alcossebre at about 16:00.
Playa Tropicana – Alcossebre (Castellon) – ACSI2010-1559
First impressions are that this was a good choice, It is quite a large site, the sort of place where people spend the winter.
It is just about on the beach, you can hear the waves on the beach from our van, and everything seems to be in good order. It so happens that the pitch we choose is in the German quarter, and we have German and Belgian neighbours. We later find there is an English quarter, but we opt to stay where we are.
We have a quick explore before our evening meal, and manage a seven mile cycle along the coast, we do not find the church so that is a task for tomorrow.
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