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? 

 

L’Albarda Gardens

Why have we not been to L’Albarda ( website ) before? Friends have long been recommending it and it’s only about 20 minutes away from Jávea. Somehow we’ve just never got around to it despite happily travelling much further afield. The last day of a glorious February was the day, though.

The sound of water is everywhere.

From the sight of the path up to the entrance we knew we were going to like it. Initially ignoring the map provided, the vision of the house itself with a few tables set up alongside, drew us to ignore the tempting side routes. What a beautiful place to live and what an amazing hotel it would make. Maybe if we won the euromillions lottery (we’d have to actually buy a ticket first, of course.)

If the roses aren’t properly in bloom yet the many orange and lemon trees still impress if you’re more used to a colder climate!

But the gardens are what this visit is about. Citrus trees heavy with ripe fruit, Arabesque fountains, Italianate statues, shady pergolas and wooded paths had me clicking away taking pictures at each turn. And everywhere the sound of water and birdsong.

A pond in the area left to return to the wild. Frogs dived into the water at our approach.

Don’t get me wrong, these are not immaculate formal gardens or even obviously well maintained (at this time of year at least.) Much has been left deliberately to return to nature but some areas have also been left to run to weed where you might expect otherwise. Perhaps it is a work in progress and probably best seen anyway when the flowers are in full bloom. We’d like to return and see. 

An early rose blooming in February. The long trellis archway covered in climbing rose bushes must be a spectacular site in season.

 

 

Sunshine

I think it’s fair to say I haven’t really been myself this month. Returning to Spain was something I longed for and yet as we were driving into Jávea a couple of weeks ago I felt decidedly down. Neil has definitely borne the brunt of this; I know I have been even more irritable and intolerant than usual.

The time we’ve spent with friends, regular exercise, perhaps, and the general way of life here have all played their part in alleviating this feeling. But, the bright and breezy days we’ve mostly had since we got back are a tonic I wish could be prescribed on the NHS. As John Denver sang “sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy”( Video here ) To be able to lift my face up to the warmth and brightness in winter is a privilege. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped nagging Neil, mind. 

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high

If I had a day that I could give you
I’d give to you the day just like today
If I had a song that I could sing for you
I’d sing a song to make you feel this way

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high

If I had a tale that I could tell you
I’d tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I’d make a wish for sunshine for all the while

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high
Sunshine almost all the time makes me high

Words by John Denver, Music by John Denver, Dick Kniss and Mike Taylor

Castles, Courtyards and Cañas on the Coach

We are now feel old enough to join the University of the Third Age, better known as U3A even though here in Jàvea, at least, we are probably amongst the youngest. That suits us just fine as they’re a busy and sprightly bunch, often putting us to shame and there are so many activities we want to get involved in. One of these is the Travel Group which was organising a trip to Extremadura in the west of Spain, towards Portugal, an area we haven’t previously explored.

Monday morning found us lugging our sizable cases to the bus. Yes, that’s right, this was a pensioners’ coach trip. Several very welcome ‘comfort’ stops, two lunch stops (don’t ask) and ten hours later we were in Mérida with the evening free. Not the prettiest of towns, it’s attraction is in the the fact it has been built on a Roman city of which a huge amount still remains. That was all for the following day, however. The night was for the bars and restaurants. An October Monday evening is not the busiest of times but we soon found where the action was both in the Plaza Major and the back streets where a caña and a tapa would set you back the grand total of €1. And I can say, in all honesty, that the restaurant we finally chose had the best red wine I have ever tasted.

Tuesday was ours to explore and, being us, we were the first in the Roman amphitheatre. We had the place to ourselves initially giving us chance to savour walking in the footsteps of gladiators. It is possible to get a bit “Romaned out”, however. There were some twenty odd different Roman sites dotted about, all well worth a visit but by mid afternoon I was ready for a siesta. Did I mention this was a pensioners’ coach trip? Yep, most of them explored the lot.

Come evening and we were raring to go again and met up with another couple who encouraged us to visit one last ruin. The Temple of Diana, just around the corner from the main shopping street, was floodlit and stunning. This called for fizz.

 

Back to the coach on Wednesday to our next stopover and a guided tour of the medieval town of Cáceres and its fortified noble houses. We walked the walls, explored the church and the Jewish quarter before a lunch of tostada with smoked salmon on oranges, a combination I’d never heard of before but can definitely recommend.

Afternoon was medieval and renaissance Trujillo which was shut but perhaps more attractive for being empty. Home to Conquistadors, every turn was a photograph, but is perhaps best remembered by the U3A for the “little train” debacle.

If it’s Thursday this must be Guadalupe and a rather disappointing visit to a monastery and a surprisingly good community lunch venue before overnight in Ciudad Real. Here the long threatened rain clouds finally burst with dramatic lightning causing us to run into the nearest restaurant for the best meal of our trip. Good food, good wine and great company.

Friday took us to Almagro and a visit to the theatre museum – not what we intended but perhaps actually better than the planned visit to the old theatre itself – and back for the grueling journey home to Jàvea. All great fun and wonderful places but perhaps we’re not ready for more coach trips just yet.

Interlude

The thunderstorms are following us around. We’ve only been here in southern Spain a few days and our second is rattling the shutters as we speak. Being on dry land I’d normally be pretty relaxed about it, though. But no. There’s a huge, great wasp taken shelter in the bathroom. I mean massive. This is the Terminator of wasps. And it chose to make its presence known just as I stepped out of the shower.

Not bothering with the niceties of drying let alone deodorant, I made a run for it, slamming the door – with my glasses on the other side.

“Wasp!”

“Well it can’t stay there.”

“Well, spray it then!”

“Where’s the spray?”

“Should be under the sink.”

“Is this it?”

(Fumbles blindly, dripping, into the kitchen and holds can an inch from nose to examine) It’s labelled in Spanish but there’s a picture of a mosquito on the front.

“Will that kill it?”

Not having an entomology degree I guess it’s a pretty safe bet it won’t like it.

Fumes.

A few minutes later.

“That sorted it”

“Is it dead”

Running water.

“It is now.”

Retrieving glasses I spot the soggy toilet paper in the sink.

“Is it down the plughole?”

“Yes, the paper’s to make sure it can’t come back.”

“Won’t it block the sink?”

Neil removes the paper bit by bit.

“The bugger’s still alive!” More paper is shoved down the plughole.

More running water.

“It’s dead now.”

Yeah, right. I’ve seen that movie. All four of them.