Oh, Happy Day

Saturday, 21st March

Our bags were packed and loaded into the car. Preparation for the journey had been made as well as we could. Enough food and drink for a family of four should get us through the two day journey. If we could get there. I’d even written out some key phrases in Spanish to explain where​ we were going and why in case we were stopped by the police. It still seemed like a good idea to allow an extra 4 hours for delays.

Leaving Jávea was so very different from previous years​, no fond farewells or see-you-next-time except by phone, the uncertainty palpable. So it was fitting that the day dawned dark and damp. Cloud obscured the mountains and misted the mostly deserted roads.

On the motorway the lorries were on the move, unsung heroes transporting the vital supplies to keep the country going. Signs over the road warned of checks on unnecessary journeys and we fretted about the rule only allowing one person in a car. The police presence was most evident at service stations where we stopped for comfort breaks (another worry allayed: would the toilet facilities be open?) They left us alone, though and gradually we gained in confidence. It must be obvious that a foreign vehicle, loaded to the gunnels and heading north must be leaving the country we reasoned.

The weather even reflected our growing optimism. Soon we were wearing sunglasses and opening windows. Hawks flew over the empty roads and seemingly deserted towns around Zaragoza By the time we reached the coast between Bilbao and Santander we found ourselves wanting to explore the many holiday resorts signposted as if these were normal times.

That they weren’t was reinforced when we reached the port. Staff and the many Guardia Civil were all wearing masks and gloves. At check-in we were instructed to read a notice informing us that we must remain in our cars until boarding and go immediately to the cabin where we must remain until instructed to return to our car on arrival.

Neil had received an email en route to inform us that the ferry would be an hour late departing and we now had five hours to wait before boarding. Visits to the toilet block were permitted but woe betide those tempted to linger to enjoy the sea view or exchange pleasantries. The Guardia were having none of it. Thankfully, they were more tolerant of stretching legs by the car or taking items out of the boot as long as we kept a distance of at least a meter from anyone else.

Boarding took much longer than usual to ensure no overcrowding on the garage decks or stairways and to allow for only two people in the lift at a time. It seemed to work better than usual, to be honest.

Thus we’ve made it onto the ferry and are underway. We’ve even been provided with complimentary cold snacks delivered to the cabin at meal times. So we now have enough food to feed a family of six.

A New Reality

How things have changed since our last blog. Suddenly, we all have to accept a new reality.

Back then, we had just left the boat and returned to the UK with lots of plans for further travel. We cruised down the Rhine, visited cities and countryside, went to theatres, art galleries and museums as well as doing a spot of house hunting. Neil returned to the boat to “put her to bed” before we headed off to Spain for our usual winter sojourn.

Daily life was a pleasant routine of socialising and relaxing, opportunities to explore and learn, share a meal, sample the local vino. It wasn’t all idyllic as we anxiously watched the flooding in the UK and a storm battered the seafront of Jàvea to such an extent we feared it would struggle to recover. The talk was of climate change along with the difficulties of becoming Third Nation citizens in the wake of Brexit. But life went on much as before here with seafront businesses rapidly refurbishing and reopening.

The news started to fill with reports from China of a new virus on the rampage, of its spread to neighbouring countries, the Middle East and Europe but the warnings seemed to be going largely unheard. We knew it had reached Madrid and surrounding areas, that odd cases were popping up closer. Then it was here.

The Chinese owners and staff of the many “Bazaars” were the first to pick up on what was happening, wearing masks and closing down. We all joked: “What do they know that we don’t?” We can’t kid ourselves that we didn’t know it was coming but it seemed far-fetched, somehow an overreaction.

So it still seemed sudden when the town council shut the bars and restaurants, shut all shops except for supermarkets and pharmacies and told everyone to stay at home. Still we didn’t quite get it. Then the whole of Spain was in lockdown. From midnight on Saturday, 14th March, we weren’t allowed to leave home except to buy food, fuel or medications, use cash machines or to attend to the needs of those too frail or vulnerable to care for themselves. Generally, only those in essential services were allowed to go out to work. The Guardia Civil were patrolling the streets to enforce the law.

The implications of all this started to dawn on everybody at the same time. We couldn’t go out for a walk even to areas unlikely to be populated. Shopping for food was not to be treated as leisure activity; only one person at a time was allowed in a car or walking along the street to reach the supermarket, when inside a distance of at least a meter had to be kept from staff or other customers. Of course, panic buying took over. The shops restocked​ overnight but were soon stripped to bare shelves again. Everything returned to being ready wrapped in plastic bags.

Our ferry booking home for the end of March was cancelled. The company was reducing sailings to ensure sufficient staff to operate them but we were offered another crossing a few days later. Then that too was cancelled. Neil spent over an hour on hold trying to rebook as a matter of urgency as everyone had the same realisation: if we didn’t get a ferry soon we would not be going home in the near future.

So now we wait as the situation changes daily, hourly even. The land borders are now closed and there are more ferry cancellations​. As things stand, ours is the last crossing to the UK. How long that will stay the case we just don’t know. We have a few days to pack up our belongings but it’s anybody’s guess if we’ll make it onto the ferry. Will the sea border remain open? Will we be allowed to travel eight hours to the north to reach the port? What then? 

 

Bars, Bell Towers and Blisters

A week at home to draw breath and we were off again. The next part of our “Autumn of Doing Something Different” was all about exploring more of Spain as we headed to our home-from-home and usual winter stopover in Jávea – another road trip but in our own car. This took a fair bit of planning, too, juggling potential weather concerns and expectations of out of tourist season towns with places to stay, things to do and distance to travel. Spain is a big country. We finally settled on four places we had never been to before, some proving more successful than others.

A city soaked in history and a World Heritage Site, Salamanca (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salamanca) was a big hit and unsurprisingly the star of the show. Being the furthest north of our pick we had expected it to be cold in December, and we were right, but we were lucky to get two beautiful days of misty, early mornings brightening to perfect blue skies.

The two full days we had were never going to be enough to see everything but we gave it a good try. The blisters on the soles of my feet after the first day were testament to that. Cobbled, hilly streets combined with lots and lots of steps to see the views from old towers are best walked in sensible footwear. I learnt the hard way.

As glorious by night as by day, inevitably I took literally hundreds of pictures. Never fear, though, I’ve whittled them down a bit!  

There are not one but two cathedrals which can be visited on a combined ticket that also includes the bell tower with views of the interior of the church from a narrow ledge (gulp!) as well as over the rooftops of the city. 

Neil stands casually on another narrow ledge which got the better of any reassurance to me that it was quite safe. 

 

Probably the highlight of the city for me was the Casa Lis, a beautiful Modernist house which is now home to the Museum of Art Nouveau and Art Déco. You’re not allowed to take pictures inside so I’ve had to pinch one off the internet to demonstrate just how exquisite the exhibits​ are.

You can buy a combined ticket with the Museum of Automotive History which was more Neil’s thing. At least it was warm on a chilly morning.

Our visit to Jerez (de la Frontera), purely through luck, happened to coincide with the start of Christmas in the Spanish calendar. This being a public holiday meant the zambombas were in full swing. Think Christmas carols flamenco style. Basically anyone can go into town to party – drink, eat, dance and sing Christmas carols, accompanied by the friction drums called zambombas. We did the eating and drinking bit but could only vaguely clap along to the carols.

Of course Jerez is famous for a) sherry and b) dancing horses. There wasn’t a show at the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art while we were there and we weren’t sure if it would be our sort of thing anyway, while tours of the sherry producers are stupidly expensive. We contented ourselves with trying different sherries in the the various bars. Well, I did – Neil stuck to beer. No surprises​ there, then, to anybody​ who knows us!

The tourist highlight for us was the Palacio del Virrey Laserna with the Count himself as our personal guide. I was terrified of knocking over one of the priceless artifacts and too awed to ask to take pictures so here’s a link. https://www.palaciodelvirreylaserna.com/presentation/

Church of San Miguel lit by the morning sun.

This being Andalusia there were many beautiful courtyards including this one which was the view from our bedroom window. 

We gave Cadiz a miss as we had already been there on our journey from Plymouth to Greece (here) but did visit a couple of pretty seaside towns which were very much out of season. A castle with more steps was inevitably included this time following in the footsteps of Queen Isabella of Castile who managed while heavily pregnant so I didn’t really have an excuse.

She saw the sea for the first time from this window, apparently. I wonder if she was impressed.

We probably didn’t fully appreciate Ronda. This was largely due to the truly spectacular scenery we’d driven through on the way there.

We had taken a detour through Sierra de Grazalema Natural Park to see the White Villages or Pueblos Blancos of Andalusia. Pretty as they were, we hadn’t expected that the highlight of our tour would be driving to the heights of the Sierras themselves, each turn of the road revealing vistas of increasing grandeur. Wild deer strolled to the roadside, eyeing us up as we gawped, too surprised to take a picture. Pausing at a viewpoint we looked up to see a flock of vultures flew overhead. Amazing, extraordinary, wonderful.

So arriving in Ronda came as something of an anticlimax. The three bridges over the gorge, the newest dating back to 1751,

the gorge itself and the houses seeming to totter at its edge

– all failed to impress. We were tired and somewhat jaded. Lorca the next day was decidedly disappointing. It was time to call it a day and head for “home”.