Sant Pere Pescador – Aquarius – ASCI 2010-1660 Continued
Weather is not a lot better, overcast and not terribly warm, but at least it is not actually raining.
We got a cycle route map from reception, and despite our previous experience of Spanish Cycle routes, we decided to go out cycling.
The plan was to cycle south to Sant Marti d’Empuries, then to L’Escala, then to L’Armentera and back to the Campsite.
The first problem was, after about two miles, the cycle track south was flooded, from all of the rain we have had over the past few days, so we had to cycle back to Sant Pere Pescador, and then go along a minor road to Sant Marti d’Empuries, which is a tiny place, perched on a small hill, with just a church and at least four restaurants, it is obviously a popular place to visit and eat.
Next we were able to cycle along an excellent promenade, past some Roman (?) ruins, to L’Escala, where we had our lunch. L’Escala is a sort of Spanish Whitby I suppose, a quaint (ex) fishing village, which is not quite a resort, more a sort of day trip place.
Then along a signposted cycle track to L’Armentera, this was a challenge, much of the track was very wet and muddy, not to Kathleen’s liking at all, but she rose to the challenge with hardly a word of complaint. L’Armentera, was asleep, no sign of life at all.
Finally, back to Sant Pere Pescador. Eighteen miles in total.
We spend the evening drinking a litre carton of red wine, which we paid only 1.05Euro for, pretty good, considering the price.
Friday, wake up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof, I thought the rain in Spain was supposed to fall mainly on the plain, not on our roof.
Their weather forecasts are about as much good as ours.
Check the news from the UK, only to find it looks as if we are going to have a hung parliament, with Labour and Lib-Dems, a deep depression sets in.
Kathleen returns from buying the bread, with two rather large cakes to cheer us up. Then she starts to ponder, keeping half of hers for tomorrow. Only she could think like that instead of just getting stuck into it. In the event, she weakens and we scoff the lot.
Around lunch time, we get English neighbours, they have come from Benicassim, trying to escape the rain, and are heading for France, for the first time since Wednesday, the sun breaks through the cloud.
I go out on my bike, initially to scout out a cycle track north, towards Roses, but I give up when the flood water is almost half way up my wheels. I end up searching for a decent supermarket, in San Pere Pescador, which I fail to find.
Kathleen predictably opts to sit / lie in the sun. By 16:00, she is sitting in the sun playing her guitar, and attracts more English people. One of them is a Lidl fan, and tells her about wine for 0.65Euro a bottle, from Lidl, the hunt for a Lidl takes on a new urgency.
Sorry for the lack of pictures over the past few days, but the weather has been too miserable for photographs.
Friday, 7 May 2010
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
May 4th 2010 - May 5th 2010
Sant Pere Pescador – Aquarius – ASCI 2010-1660 Continued
Last night, the weather got worse and worse, in addition to the rain, by 22:00 the wind was strong enough for us to decide we had to take the awning in, to prevent it from blowing itself to pieces.
I have often watched yacht racing, or indeed plain simple sailing on TV and thought “that looks like fun”. Well after taking an awning down, in pouring rain and with a howling wind, but with at least the ground underneath me staying still, I have changed my mind, there is no way I would want to do that with a boat moving about under my feet. So, scratch sailing as a future hobby.
The rain continued, along with the wind, all night, by (Tuesday) morning the rain had stopped, but the wind had got stronger.
Our groundsheet (from the awning), which was pegged down, had blown away, fortunately it was wrapped around a palm tree a few hundred yards away and I was able to retrieve it.
Around the site there are satellite dishes, branches etc scattered about.
The good news is that by 17:00 the wind has dropped, the bad news is, it is raining rather heavily.
Things are getting desperate, we are down to our last bottle of wine!
It continued to pour with rain all evening and most of the night. The noise of the rain on the roof was so loud we could not hear the sound track of the film we were trying watch, so we just had to drink the wine.
Wednesday dawned, dry, calm but overcaste.
Not much will be happening today, it is a full hair dressing day, plus using washing machine to wash clothes etc.
Oops!, not sure how I have just managed that, but I made posts out of order, 29th April seems to have been missplaced, sorry!
Starting around lunch time, the sun came out, nice and warm, everything looks so much better when the sun is shining.
Cycled into San Pere Pescador, to buy vegetables, on return put awning up, dried ground sheet etc etc.
19:30 now and it is raining again!
Last night, the weather got worse and worse, in addition to the rain, by 22:00 the wind was strong enough for us to decide we had to take the awning in, to prevent it from blowing itself to pieces.
I have often watched yacht racing, or indeed plain simple sailing on TV and thought “that looks like fun”. Well after taking an awning down, in pouring rain and with a howling wind, but with at least the ground underneath me staying still, I have changed my mind, there is no way I would want to do that with a boat moving about under my feet. So, scratch sailing as a future hobby.
The rain continued, along with the wind, all night, by (Tuesday) morning the rain had stopped, but the wind had got stronger.
Our groundsheet (from the awning), which was pegged down, had blown away, fortunately it was wrapped around a palm tree a few hundred yards away and I was able to retrieve it.
Around the site there are satellite dishes, branches etc scattered about.
The good news is that by 17:00 the wind has dropped, the bad news is, it is raining rather heavily.
Things are getting desperate, we are down to our last bottle of wine!
It continued to pour with rain all evening and most of the night. The noise of the rain on the roof was so loud we could not hear the sound track of the film we were trying watch, so we just had to drink the wine.
Wednesday dawned, dry, calm but overcaste.
Not much will be happening today, it is a full hair dressing day, plus using washing machine to wash clothes etc.
Oops!, not sure how I have just managed that, but I made posts out of order, 29th April seems to have been missplaced, sorry!
Starting around lunch time, the sun came out, nice and warm, everything looks so much better when the sun is shining.
Cycled into San Pere Pescador, to buy vegetables, on return put awning up, dried ground sheet etc etc.
19:30 now and it is raining again!
April 29th 2010
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?
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?
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.
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