06/2003 - Small Town Camping
2nd January 2004 - Vilanova, Spain
Hola! Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin the next edition of the e-serial (as Hey Jude has dubbed our ramblings!).
The place we are staying now at Vilanova i la Geltru, not far from Sitges, is quite unlike anywhere we've pitched up before. Less of the El Camping, more of a small town really. For people who, when in the UK, like nothing better than a field by a loch, an out-in-the-sticks 5-unit Caravan Club 'certificated location' or a corner at a loon-swinging world music festival, this is something else! We know that quite a few of you have done the European camping site thing, often with children in tow, so will probably be quite familiar with this kind of set-up. For us it is a revelation. We reckon with the combination of spaces for touring vans, pleasing wooden chalets, static mobile homes and long-term sited caravans there must be over a thousand slots at Camping Vilanova Parc!
Before you snort in derision/horror/amazement (delete as applicable according to your own proclivities), we should say that the site is beautifully arranged on a hillside with various different almost self-contained 'enclaves', which means you're not normally aware of the sheer scale of the site. That's why we were so gob-smacked when we did our by-now traditional orientation cycle tour when we arrived. (The hills, the hills !) The site is like a series of villages, each with a totally different character, within the whole. Wouldn't say it's large, exactly, just that most people pack a picnic when they want to make the journey to reception!
We arrived here on Saturday, so the two or three huge areas with permanently/semi-permanently pitched caravans, usually with awnings and other canvas annexe 'buildings', were abuzz with weekending Spanish families, live with the clatter of paella pans, delicious cooking smells and laugher. Ditto some parts of the chalet-villettes.
We're pitched up in a small terraced area dotted with Camping Cars. It has a very international flavour - we've identified Dutch, Italian, French, Belgian, German, Swiss, Spanish and Austrian near-neighbours, as well as two or three other UK set-ups. Better than a motorhome trade show, it affords the chance to inspect (externally at least) a huge variety of Camping Cars (we're working on getting invited for the internal inspection)! It's very pretty in the evenings as lots of people still have festive lights, trees or other decorations in and around their motorhomes and pitches. The site's not very busy with shorter-term tourers at this time of year, so there's plenty of space between vans. Indeed as we look out of our 'kitchen' window all we see are pitch-dividing trees and oleander bushes, a low wall and a long view over layers of hills marching back into the misty distance.
From the front we can see over the wall down to the sea a mile or so beyond. There have been a couple of mornings we've watched the sun rise from the water, washing the top-box a delicious goldy-pink in a picturesque manner which the manufacturers could never have envisaged. (We mention this too so you will know that, yes, sometimes we are up and around soon after 8 a.m., sunrise time, and don't always lie in bed until late! Although there was a memorable lazy day when one of us remained in his dressing gown all day - oh, whoops, that was a giveaway!)
The site is so huge it has its own 24 hour doctor (now there's a job for an over-worked UK GP to apply for!), big outdoor swimming pool (closed now sadly, even to those of us who brought the goose-grease) a small supermercado, tabac/newsagent cum general store and of course a café bar and restaurant. We have our suspicions that there's a hearty gathering in the bar most evenings, but it's not quite our scene really (and we have our Boggle Challenge responsibilities to consider). We even eschewed the invitation from the management to a free champagne cocktail and 'rafle game' one night (mind you we had had a particularly exhausting day that day). Miserable old sods, aren't we?!
There are also pretty terraces, tennis, volleyball and basketball courts, a boules pitch and even a 5-acre ecological park within the site - 'the park contains herds of deer and wild sheep which will no doubt be to the delight of everyone'. Indeed.Dave, who as some of you know, has an unnatural passion for clothes washing, was convinced he would be able to indulge in his usual periodic, unfettered laundry frenzy when we came here. He's got mixed feelings about the fact that the choices are a serviced laundry facility and/or a vast area of clothes-washing sinks with adjacent ironing boards. The thought of hand-washing the bedding and 16 teeshirts may yet drive him into the arms of the Senora de la Lavanderia ! (He's just confessed that his 'ultimate dream' is finding a launderette in a small town where he can watch local life pass by as the smalls swirl. Is this really the dream we left the UK for?!)
Although we're within reasonable distance of the 'facilities' block, 'reasonable' is all relative on this Camping. So Isadora Trike, with her capacious wicker basket, has come into her own yet again. On a very necessary note, she's a boon for getting the hefty loo cassette to the 'cludgie' for emptying, and on other occasions Jeni cycles off along the path, in an exuberant clatter of melamine and rattle of cutlery and pans.
Sunday brunch's washing up was serenaded by the harmonies of a singing Dutch couple, which left everyone smiling broadly. We reckon that if only World Leaders would get together like this, it would give international relations a positive boost. We've detected no conforming to alleged national stereotypes in the collective washing up scenario (no bagging the best sinks by leaving a strategically placed tea towel, making the most noise, using the sudsy-est washing up liquid etc.) - no, we've observed détente at its best. This could be the way forward for World Peace, folks!
Those of you who have seen The Lorry (and those whose memories are long enough to recall a comment in the first bulletin) will know that VeeJay does offer us a full range of comforts - loo, shower, kitchen and bathroom sinks etc. etc. (eh, luxureh!). You may therefore be wondering why we keep mentioning our ventures out into the facilities of the various sites where we've been staying.
Well first of all, it saves keep topping up the water tank (and emptying the resulting waste); secondly (a critical one) it cuts down on the housework/cleaning and thirdly you must remember that Jeni is her mother's daughter and likes to ensure that we 'get oor money's worth!'. The other important point is, of course, that it's a fab way of meeting people (that doesn't involve boozy nights in smokey bars). The Singing Dutchfolk gave us a host of tips about local public transport, recommendations on places to go, etc. Doubtless the very helpful reception team could have done so (and indeed has), but somehow it was much more fun over the washing up and we got fellow-visitor insights we might not otherwise have gleaned.
There's a small team of constantly-smiling Senoras who keep all the facilities spotless (Jeni always breaks into a northern accent when she talks about 'spotless facilities' for some unaccountable reason!), and we've even seen them in there polishing the glass at 9.30pm. They move between the two or three large blocks across the site in a loud tangle, mops, buckets and cloths akimbo. It's a bit of a Forth Road Bridge situation (get to the end only to start back at the beginning again). Bit like that - only sunnier!
As a result of information gained at the harmonious international dish-washing session, we decided to venture forth the very next day. So, after we'd enjoyed another episode of Sunrise Colours on the Fiamma Top Box Observed Through the Roof Hatch, we leapt on a bus and went down to Vilanova station. We noted (never being completely 'off duty' of course) that the double-decker train was remarkably inaccessible, but enjoyed the views, after we'd struggled up to the top level, out over the rocky coast on the first half of the journey to Barcelona. At times the track seemed to swing audaciously out over the sea itself and we wondered how it was actually clinging to land.
In our all our previous jaunts to Spain neither of us had been to Barcelona, and it's every bit as amazing as the guide books and various of you had told us. (Such a cosmopolitan crew, aren't you?!) We regretted the absence both of the cycles and the power-chairs for getting around and ended up thoroughly exhausted after seeing just a tiny percentage of the city. Multiple return trips definitely required! Jeni, whose confidence in her improving Spanish has been growing daily, was somewhat crushed as she realised that Catalan and Castilian Spanish just ain't the same. This provoked a rash of political guilt about not wishing to offend regional sensibilities by using the language of the oppressors, etc. etc. But happily, we got what we thought we'd ordered for lunch and the correct number and denomination of postage stamps at appropriate points in the day, so they didn't reject us entirely!
We met a guy from Brighton (where else?) doing street theatre while we were rambling down La Rambla (Barcelona's most famous street for those of you who haven't visited). At least, we met his face. The rest of him was hidden, crouched beneath a table with his head out in a plate of (plastic) paella, Salvador Dali-style. 'They love it! The Spanish love it!' he told Dave, posing for a photo with him in exchange for a Euro (you have to do it, don't you?). 'Shit, I'm gonna have to have a rest, me arse 'as gorn numb and I've got a crick in me neck!' Ah, the sophistication of street performance these days!
We returned to our little home without incident, via the pleasingly efficient public transport system, but with throbbing feet (to accompany the already cycle-throbbing thighs?). Following the compulsory game of Boggle we retired to bed, exhausted but happy to have seen a bit more of Spain. (Incidentally, Dave has insisted we point out that it is only Boggle at which he is currently getting thrashed. When playing Upword, which is a sort of 3-d version of Scrabble, he manages to knock Jeni into a cocked hat [?!]. We think that this is something to do with our respective strengths, i.e., Dave's more strategic approach and Jeni with her amazing vocabulary.)
Well, we seem to have rambled on a bit again don't we folks? (We blame too much strolling on La Rambla.) So here's to the next time ...
A Happy New Year and much love to you all,
Dave y Jeni
xx
PS We have cancelled the bumper sticker mentioned in the previous bulletin. Following some interesting, if not lubricious, suggestions from a few of you, we have discovered that it's possible to achieve a kind of tantric dinner cooking situation by leaving the stabilisers up ... !