Barcelona was the last stop before freedom again in the form of a car. Nice city beaches and parks were had as well as a few too many Mojitos! All in all I think a little bit of wee was coming out of both of us as a result of our excitement of being on the open roads again, as although ‘Barca’ was nice we didn’t think it was as good as it is cracked up to be... Horses for courses. Maybe it was because we didn’t get to see the main sight - Elephant Man. Google it if you are over 18 and don’t know what we’re talking about...
Booking - check. Licence – check. Car - Car. Oh sorry we don’t have a car for you. Just the words we wanted to hear before we drove around the coast of Spain and Portugal! We were offered a little van that had the logo of the rental company to be fair but we’re not in the 1940s.... Sure enough after a few dirty looks and questions about using their phone a car was lined up. Literally we got the car I think we were supposed to get but the cheeky little Spaniard wanted to give us a dud. Anyway Citroen c3 Picasso was away, the black beauty.
Stop one was Valencia to clearly do what Webber couldn’t and win the Grand Prix. However, the navigator clearly passed macronavigation but not micronavigation. As we rolled into Valencia do we know how to get to our accommodation? Two hours later and feeling dizzy we finally find our accommodation on one of these roads that crosses a highway. One side hotel, other side – the Bronx. We took the other side. Anyway it wasn’t to be our last time lost in Valencia. Number two on the list (and number two in every Spanish city) was to check out the old city. They are always filled with a plentiful supply of cerveza (or gunea in Basque) and delicious tapas (or Pintox in Basque). Great stuff.
A one night stop in a mystery campsite (although we were pleasantly surprised!) was required due to navigator and driver fatigue whilst driving through the desert. Numerous secluded beaches were enjoyed as well as Bee trying her best to tease a bull by posing in nothing but her swimwear in front of one! The road was hit again to Cadiz the home of surfing. Ahh windsurfing. If we had of thought about this a bit more we would have realised that for windsurfing you need wind. And wind and lounging on the beach don’t mix! When I say wind I don’t just mean a light breeze. I mean wind turbines rotating fully in about one second. So after staying in the Spanish version of Nimbin we were rescheduling our bookings forward a night or two...
Seville. Hot. 44 degrees but it is amazing how clean and beautiful they can keep a city where you would think that it would be barren and lifeless. Deserved our two night stay as the Alcazar, Plaza Espana and the Cathedral were as grand and exquisite as we have seen (except for Madrid).
Portugal, finally and did it live up to what we needed and expected! South coast of Portugal was amazing. The rock formations surrounding the beaches were grand and something that we don’t often enjoy with the long white sandy beaches of Oz. Hate to harp on it but days spent snorkelling (yep they paid for themself in Greece – value buy) , beaching and swimming were in order and we truly wished we had weeks on end down in the South. Accommodation was at Pera for Gerard’s birthday and let’s just say we celebrated in style!
The other town we stayed at in Portugal was at Lagos which raised the tourist flag a little but none the less we found ourselves a beach where we had to climb down a ladder made from drift wood, then lower ourselves down the rest of the decline (Uluru style) with a rope. Well worth it when there were only about five other people on the beach...Mind you this was after we had just walked past a nice little nudist beach and caught a perv, peering through the bushes in the cliffs above!
Sad to leave would be an understatement but Sintra was calling. Mind you it was on a Portuguese national holiday so things were a little busy. Another Moorish fort was calling as well as age old gardens. All this aside the highlight still had to be the The Sintra Palace Hostel that put on a great dinner for all there. A great way to get to know fellow travellers and have a crack at the English ones who were there!
North of Portugal was next on the map and Rio Alto near Viana do Castelo was a nice get away for a few days. This time instead of being surrounded by tourists it was surrounding by farm land namely lettuce which was a pleasant delight as it once again brought home how few tourists visit this area. Surfing was on the cards and glad to say the rust is slowly flaking off... The dilemma came ‘where to next?’ Well as Gerard had already sampled the delights of San Sebastian he decided it would be well worth the 800km drive but not before a stopover in Vittoria.
Best way to describe old mate who owned the caravan park we stayed at in Vittoria would be an uncle who cracks the jokes. Difference is this guy is 80 and Spanish. After a good night on the town sampling some Pintxos, it was time for an early morning slog. After 30 minutes of churning it out I returned to the campsite only to be told in Spanish by this fellow to go and run it again! If I had some breathe I would have laughed too like all the others sitting down for breaky! Finally we reached San Seb and I think Bee can explain her feelings of relief that we had not driven all this way for nothing!
Very cruisy and easy going place, is San Seb! It was again such a relief to have 4 whole nights in the one place and just relax and put the feet up.... well, for a little while anyway! We spent some quality time at the beach, strolling around the streets and finally cracking the watermelon that Gerard HAD to buy a week earlier (because “we will definitely eat it!”). Gerard, having been here already and practically a local, had the good knowledge on the Pintxos – boy was he right! He was also right about the camping grounds, spacious, clean and a delight to have stayed there despite the hilly road there (meaning a lot of bus rides back and forth, and also some exercise at 3.00am). Two other highlights included our mammoth 16km walk into town via said hills and up to the statue overlooking the city and also the Fiesta which we timed well, meaning fireworks over the beach and street performers. Good times!
And our final stop Bilbao or Bilbo for the locals. Gerard has already delved into Bilbao on his first trip here but little did we know that there was another Fiesta in Bilbao. Can we just say, no one does a Fiesta like the Spanish. Rock focussed music, fishing demonstrations and buskers were the points of attention. However it was the token at the frog game which stole our attention. Contestants stand about three metres from a stone frog and try to trow tokens into its mouth. At the end of each person’s turn of throwing about five tokens the announcer tells their score. You guessed it – zero. Pretty much every time! Finally we experienced a bull fight and let’s just say it was eye-opening and while traditional not exactly a sport we’ll follow intently...
And our final stop Bilbao or Bilbo for the locals. Gerard has already delved into Bilbao on his first trip here but little did we know that there was another Fiesta in Bilbao. Can we just say, no one does a Fiesta like the Spanish. Rock focussed music, fishing demonstrations and buskers were the points of attention. However it was the token at the frog game which stole our attention. Contestants stand about three metres from a stone frog and try to trow tokens into its mouth. At the end of each person’s turn of throwing about five tokens the announcer tells their score. You guessed it – zero. Pretty much every time! Finally we experienced a bull fight and let’s just say it was eye-opening and while traditional not exactly a sport we’ll follow intently...
