09/2003 - Return to Spanish Facilities
30th January 2004
!Hola!
Well Project Nomad is back in the sunshine, and thankful for it. We had about 5 text messages yesterday morning lamenting various stages of freezing in YUK, so for those of you suffering in such conditions, we hope you can feel the warmth of our sympathy thawing the chill. As you're at the computer, put your face close to the screen and close your eyes, you should now get a goodly blast of sun and gentle breeze mingled with scents of pine and blossom. Enjoy!
So no, we're not typing this from Gatwick, we made it back to Spain as you guessed. Our return journey was relatively uneventful, save that our baggage had mysteriously doubled in size (and tripled in weight) since the journey over, and thus caused us some grief changing trains at El Prat de Llobrega.
First of all a Very Pleasant Young Spanish Couple (VPYSC) wanted to stop us getting off the train at all - 'Es no Barcelona!' they cried, somewhat desperately, hurling themselves between us and the door. Clearly they thought that, like most people, we were taking the train from the airport all the way into the city centre. Jeni tried as politely but quickly as possible to explain that we had to change trains at the said El Prat, but having been away from Spain for 12 days, she was reduced to more hesitant scratch-the-head-gaze-intensely-into-the-middle-distance-pucker-the-lips-and-then-try-to-speak-in-Spanish mode which didn't make for a speedy detrainment. Meanwhile, as the VPYSC were being thus distracted, Manly Dave wrestled the bags down the enormous step to the platform, but it was all a bit tricky on the timing front as the doors shut right behind the last exiting bag. The VPYSC probably went all the way to the city centre (and beyond?) worrying about the VSMAEC (Very Strange Middle Aged English Couple) stranded on a station on the outskirts of Barcelona. Or maybe not?
Being well-trained Brits, we headed for the underpass to get to the right platform for our train to Vilanova. We've noticed that a large proportion of Spaniards simply leap off the low-level platforms and cross the rails, but that didn't seem like the most sensible strategy for us under our laden circumstances. The proper route did of course involve rather a lot of running up and down the steps for Sherpa in Chief Dave (as ever, we're all fine on the flat with wheels - whoever invented steps?!). But he decided that it was all part of the New-for-2004 Fitness 'n' Diet regime (which starts tomorrow, or was it the next day, or next week ?!)
A happy reunion with Veejay the Van who was tucked up safe and sound where we'd left her. We have since thrashed out an amicable profit-sharing agreement with Beardy and Ma B from the lucrative dung-haulage business in which they'd had VeeJay as the prime mover. Apparently our timing was impeccable as our absence neatly coincided with the local horse fiesta, thus dung-haulage was attracting a premium for the duration.
As retribution (well, it could have been construed thus!) Dave decided to re-site the Lorry on a sunny pitch next to Beardy and Ma B, as we'd left it in a shadier slot opposite before we left. Only Dave could (deliberately) manage to wedge the Lorry in sideways across the pitch, thus affording more sunshine, privacy and space but hard up against a pine tree at one end and bushes at the other, in a manner which suggested that the site management might have to come along with a chain-saw when we de-camped. Suitable warning notices were tacked to the trees ('Beware, Wild Fruitbats' etc.) between us and our goodly neighbours, but happily they didn't suddenly decide they had urgent business at the other end of the site, and we had a convivial few days book, magazine and newspaper-swapping through the bushes, having coffee and getting to know Beardy and Ma B better.
We had decided we would have a gentle few days complete chill-out (or should that be warm-up, given that the sun was gently shining most days?!). Jeni had brought back an interesting array of cold-germs in the large luggage, perhaps inevitably given all those hours in a bug-ridden hospital. So she needed to get over that and we both just felt we needed a bit of R&R before we set sail again.
After three or four days, once we'd almost completed the re-entry programme, we decided to head off on the train to Sitges, which we hadn't managed to visit when we were here before. 'Tis true that - Pollyanna-like - we are predisposed to enjoy everything that this adventure offers us, but even if we'd been old cynics it would have been hard not to be captivated by Sitges. We loved it. It offers a great mix of fascinating old buildings, a number of the key ones high on a mound adjacent the sea, winding lanes and narrow streets, some fabulous promenade and beaches. Very Brighton-esque in its eclectic mix of residents and visitors, and its being a hot-spot for the gay community. We're told that Sitges' week long Carnaval in the third week in February is great fun and the final parade is outrageously akin to Pride and Mardi Gras festivals elsewhere. Only sorry we won't be in the area at the right time in 2004, but there are always other years. It was very quiet in Sitges when we were there, which we enjoyed - it's probably a bit too throbbing with humanity in the height of the season for our taste. Nonetheless, highly recommended - we had a fab day. (We even heard someone calling us as we were walking down one street, and it turned out to be a guy who was sitting next to us on the plane to Barcelona the previous week!)
On our last night at Vilanova we went up to the site lecture theatre with Beardy and Ma B for an intensive Spanish lesson over a nice cup of tea. That night's tuition was focussed on numbers. Oh, okay, you're right, we joined in the Bingo in the bar! Normally hosted by the seven-language-fluent Masha, that particular session was being run by Masha's Friend (let's call him MF, as we never did find out his name, and we couldn't bring ourselves to refer to him as 'Cuba's answer to Bruce Forsyth' as that would be plagiarising Beardy!). Masha himself had had to return to Cuba due to family illness.
Not sure how many languages MF was proficient in, but he was certainly multi-talented (and a good deal better looking than Bruce Forsyth!). An engineer by trade, he is over in Spain with the 18 person Cuban music and dance troupe that he manages, and here he was, engineer-turned-Bingo-caller. You have to be impressed. Anyroadup, apart from us four degenerates, two caravanners from Yorkshire turned up and planted themselves at the adjacent table, looking like they were going to take the whole thing very seriously.
Our competency in Spanish numbers up to 90 increased in leaps and bounds, as we demanded that MF call the numbers in English, let us try out the Spanish (allowing him to correct us and/or our pronunciation where appropriate), then we taught him any of the Bingo-callers phrases relevant to the numbers which we knew between us ('legs eleven', 'two fat ladies', 'two little ducks' etc. - some were ruder as you might imagine - then between us we did an approximate Spanish translation of those). Having fun yet?!
So over there in chilly YUK (if that's where you are) it's probably hard to get into the frenzy-of-silly-excitement vein we tapped into. Perhaps you just had to be there (and have had a couple of drinks too - that helped). Suffice to say we weren't overly distraught when the couple on the other table scooped up all three prizes. On balance, they were taking it more seriously. And who needs a couple of glass whiskey tumblers in a Camping Car when you've got your full range of melamine?! The his 'n' hers Camping Vilanova teeshirts might have been nice souvenirs though. MF certainly seemed to enjoy the experience as well as we introduced him to the sillier side of English humour.
Just a couple of other things before we lead you out of the leafiness of Camping Vilanova Park and take you further south with us. Firstly, the Caterpillar Phenomenon. Funny thing happened on the way to the shower block one morning; Jeni spotted a Caterpillar Congo making its way across the road. About ten of them, nose to tail (do caterpillars have noses as such? Or tails come to that?). Alarmed that they would be squashed meat if a vehicle plunged round the corner, Jeni gently redirected them back to the safe side of the pathway. Only to turn round and find at least half a dozen other similar congos heading hell for leather across the same stretch of road. Short of cordoning off the driveways with our hazard triangles or putting up diversion signs, she decided reluctantly that the critters would have to be left to their fate, or Dave would turn rancid waiting for her to return with the soap. Clearly, the vegetation was lusher on the other side. We later discovered that Ma B had had a friendly exchange about the furries' progresses with a Dutch woman in an adjacent Camping Car, who said yes, she had noticed them too, and there were 132 of them!!
We also checked out the accessible facilities in the shower block this time, not having done a full tour of inspection on our previous visit since the 'regular' showers were fine for Jeni. It was certainly the best Disabled person's shower/loo/washbasin facilities we've come across on any Camping so far (others have ranged from a ball-room sized area with just a standard loo resplendent in its centre; to so-called accessible facilities which were also for all and sundry to empty their toilet cassettes; to a loo at the top of a crampon-and-ice-pick defying ramp with a four inch step at the bottom). The peculiarity of these facilities was, though, that the drop-down rails normally found on either side of the loo were perplexingly placed around an entirely empty space next to the loo. So any of you wheelchair users thinking of coming to Camping Vilanova Park, we recommend you take an advanced contortionist's course or get very good at self-levitation!
We would like to make it clear we're not suggesting France and Spain have the monopoly on access inadequacies. Far from it. Indeed, Dave is already working hard on what we hope will be his next best-seller 'How Not To Do It: 101 Favourite Access Faux-Pas' based on his years as an Access Auditor in the UK.
And so; off south again, this time down the N340 (quick rustle of maps and atlases ... ). It's - what? - three or four weeks since we'd been down that route, and this time the blossom on the fruit trees was out in great profusion. The N340 weaves between the sea and hills, so one minute there's a glimpse of rocky shoreline, or beach and sparkling sea, the next there will be groves of trees to either side, the pink and white blossom mingled with glossy dark citrus trees, many still heavy with fruit, and the ubiquitous silvery grey of the olive leaves often on wonderfully gnarled old trunks. And behind, the hillsides climbing, dry and scrubby even at this time of year, but with rich ochre, russet and red soils.
Okay, okay, of course it's not all picturesque. If it makes you feel any better, there are great stretches of commercial vehicle tyre outlets, retail parks and unlovely built-up areas, but we want you to be there with us on the best bits. Actually, we were sitting in the Lorry in the car park of a supermercado having a cup of coffee prior to an assault on their stocks, thinking how amazing it was to be looking out of the window with such beautiful hills all around - and the sun shining on them. Juxtaposition of contradictory elements, Jeni called it. Dave wasn't so sure, but promised to let her know when he'd eaten a dictionary for breakfast tomorrow. (Domestic note of interest probably only to the obsessionally fascinated: we do try and do as much shopping as we can locally when we're parked up, but those out-of-town supermarket car parks are just made for Camping Cars, so we tend to do a big stock up on heavy stuff like bottled water, tins, jars etc. when we're en route.)[Hey, wasn't that worth ploughing through to page 4 for?!]
We've always thought the Spanish use many of their natural resources very well, including hilltops. Traditionally of course forts, castles and suchlike, many of which remain in varying states of repair, optimised the panoramic views. More recently, and less romantically perhaps, mobile phone masts bestride remarkably precipitous hilltops (presumably winched into place from helicopters) and wind generators make appearances. There are some notoriously windy sections of the N340 south of Tarragona, and it was some consolation as Dave grappled with the steering wheel trying to keep our high sided vehicle in an upright position, to note the great lines of wind generators marching across the ridges of the nearby hills. At least they're tapping the natural resources!
And that reminds Jeni, in her capacity of Director of Conservation Services, to say how much better the recycling facilities are in Spain. There are bins for plastics, papers, cardboard, tins, glass - the whole gamut - on every other street corner (and on the Campings of course!). It's particularly gratifying given the number of plastic mineral water bottles we get through on a daily basis.
The Rollingfruitbats came to land at Benicassim, having had a site recommendation from Alan and Beryl who we met a month ago. They assured us it's quite safe now as the Rrrrrrally which was here over Christmas and New Year has largely finished and the place is now peopled with an eclectic and international crowd who are friendly, helpful and fun but don't engage in unnatural group activities! This is the couple who, having both experienced life-threatening illnesses, bought a motorhome, had a bit of a dodgy time travelling down through France in bad weather and feeling like the novices they were at the time, ended up at Vilanova Park feeling decidedly uncertain about the whole Camping Car thing. There they were completely converted. We now catch up with them, perky, relaxed, learning bits of three or four languages so they can better converse with fellow Camping Caristes and negotiating with the local Pharmacist to buy their (prescription!) drugs so they can stay on longer. They're definitely not ready to go home!
Sadly, we understand that we missed two weeks of glorious fiesta here in Benicassim - bread-blessing, dance, music, processions, bonfires - we're definitely going to have to plan our peregrinations around some of these events in future. But, still, we're learning … Well, it's market day in the town today we've just found out, so we'll love you and leave you to do some mooching around to get our bearings (all in the interests of research for your continued reading pleasure - we hope!).
Love to you all. Keep warm, well and happy wherever you are.
Dave y Jeni
xx
PS. Thought we'd have a change and use our resident cartoonist for this Bulletin instead of photos. Not sure how they'll appear your end though - let us know if you have problems.