There has been a lot of biking, walking and exploring involved
in working off the delicious pastries, pinxos (Basque tapas), three-course lunches, and afternoon
siestas enjoyed over the past few weeks. The bike computer religiously counts our
kms and the step-counter app positively bursts with pride as we regularly power
through 20K steps – most of them up narrow cobbled streets! Quite often of
course, it is because we have got ourselves hopelessly lost in a maze of
ancient alleys or peddled a path that suddenly ends and leaves us looking for clues and looking clueless!
Our travel planning, as always, is very detailed and comprehensive: look at weather app, pick a place with predicted sun, drive to sun, stay while
the sun lasts, explore by bike and foot, and eat - in my case, accompanied by
a glass of red wine.
In France we stopped and explored the city of Tours and Loire
Valley chateaus, then drove on to Basque
country in northern Spain. We were lucky
to enjoy an unseasonably hot spell of weather, but eventually rain came to these
north coastal areas so we headed south via an inland route to Lisbon. The fickle
weather app then said “go back up north” so ever-obedient, we left the van just
out of Lisbon and took a train to Porto where we stayed in a quaint little
Airbnb for four nights. We were rewarded for our dedication to the weather gods
with cloudless blue skies and picture-postcard scenery.
Porto is a historic city famed for its majestic bridges,
vibrant nightlife and the production of Port which is stored and matured in huge
cellars along the banks of the Douro River. Before the arrival of the railway, picturesque
Rabolo boats transported barrels of Port up and down the river. We didn't indulge
in Port but we did discover a delightful pasteleria that we loyally visited
every day for almond croissants and coffee. We explored the steep hills and narrow
cobbled streets of the Ribeira District, walked for miles along the river and
coastal beaches and ate out each night. We loved it!
After our return to Lisbon it was south to predictable sun
along the Algarve coast, with very enjoyable stays near Seville, Gibraltar and Cadiz.
We visited Gibraltar because it was there! No great expectations as we heard it
was full of Brits and restaurants selling fish and chips. Camped on a marina on
the Spanish side, we visited Gibraltar by bike. What an experience! No-one in
their right mind would take a car (let alone a motorhome) in to Gibraltar – but
they do – every day some of them – and they sit in a queue of motorcyclists,
cars and trucks to show their ID or passports to British and Spanish
authorities on the way in and again on the way out. It is the only border in
Europe we have had to do this. Once inside, it is a strange non-stop dash
across the airport runway which runs the length of the border. The city roads
are narrow, crazy busy and overrun with madmen on motorscooters. Cycling was a
nightmare, but we did it – right around the rock, up a very steep hill and through
a long road tunnel. On day two, after repeating the border and runway ritual, we
took the cable car to the top of ‘the rock’ where the views were spectacular
and the apes very entertaining. While we were sitting in the café a large, cheeky ape opened the door, bounded in and leaped on to the table behind us. The
shocked patron at the table valiantly held on to his panini as the ape tried for
a snatch and grab. The café manager, well used to this behaviour, opened the
door and shooed him out (the ape – not the patron) while the rest of us strategically moved away from his exit route!
We also discovered Main Street – a long, pedestrian
strip free from kamakazi motorscooters and with a strange mix of the usual UK
big name stores, fish and chips, pubs and Spanish tavernas. Gibralta is a tax
haven for the wealthy and offers tax free booze and cigarettes for visitors.
Our longest Spanish stay was a motorhome park beside the beach just
east of Malaga. The sea was too cold to swim, but the days were mostly warm and
sunny and we stayed for a week. We entertained ourselves by cycling to Malaga
and surrounding towns, visiting the Picasso Museum (he was born in Malaga),
eating out at local beach-side restaurants and buying our daily croissant or
cinnamon bun at the campsite store. We hired a car for a day and drove up a
winding mountain road past the white Andalusian villages to the town of Ronda.
Apart from wonderful views and delightful cobbled streets, Ronda boasts a
bridge which crosses a deep gorge and joins the two halves of the town. Completed
in 1759 it rises 98m from the bottom of the ravine.
It was a shock at the end of our coastal Mediterranean
stay, to drive two hours north to Granada in the Sierra Nevadas and have temperatures
of 2 degrees and snow falling on the surrounding hills. But Granada was
stunning. We took two excellent guided tours – one through the incredible Alhambra
Palace and the other to the old hilltop and gypsy cave areas of Albaicin and Sacramonte. So
much is already written about Alhambra I can add no more – suffice to say it is
amazing. Sacramonte has a fascinating history too. It is the birthplace of
Gypsy flamenco in Spain. After the conquest of Grenada in 1492 Moorish people
were pushed out of the city walls and settled in cave houses on the Sacromonte (sacred
mountain). There they met with the gypsies forced by catholic kings to abandon
their nomadic life. Both these outcast cultures merged and Zambra gypsy flamenco
evolved over the centuries. Banned by the Spanish Inquisition it flourished in
secret until discovered by the first wave of tourists – the romantic writers and
poets on their ‘grand tours’ between the 17th and 19th
centuries.
Heading north into colder temperatures and rain has reminded
us that our trip is nearing an end. We had a sunny day in Madrid when we took
to our bikes for probably their final ride, exploring the huge Retiro Park. Rain
did not matter when we toured the Royal Palace and Reina Sofia modern
art museum, as well as the overwhelming large Prado museum. We are now in
Bilbao and spent a day in awe at the amazing Bilbao Guggenheim.
Tomorrow we sail overnight from Santander to Portsmouth. The
weather is a bit wild so Dave has bought his seasick pills! Once back in the
UK we drive to Exeter to return our bikes, then back to London for a
couple of nights before handing Gillian the van back. We arrive back in NZ on Mon 2 Dec.
We feel so fortunate to have been able to take this trip.
The Spanish and Portuguese people we have met have been very welcoming and extraordinarily patient
with our attempts to mangle their language. Eating out is a national pastime here
and thankfully traditional Spanish food is still the norm. There is little evidence of the big chains like McDonalds or KFC (in the areas we visited anyway). Every
little café, pastelleria and restaurant sells alcohol and a glass or two of
wine with lunch is the norm – but we have never seen anyone drunk or rowdy in
the streets. Every eatery seems to have a range of hams hanging from the roof
and supermarkets often have a line of servers painstakingly slicing thin slices
of ham by hand. Pork is surely the main meat enjoyed here – it must be difficult to be
vegetarian or a non-pork eater! We have eaten tapas of all kinds and discovered
the true Spanish omelette or ‘tortilla patatas’
- and it’s delicious – so you can expect to be
experimented on with this dish on our return. Hasta pronto mis amigos!
 |
| Everyone eats out! |
