Costa del Sol and Costa Stupidity

We camped at a coastal town of Puerto de Santa Maria just across the bay from Cadiz. The campground is just across the road from the beach. The beach is beautiful with clean fine sand and crystal clear water. The waves are tiny though due to it being on the northern side of the bay but it faces the Atlantic and the sea breezes are cool and bracing especially as the days are hot, around 30ºC with mostly cloudless skies.

We cycled around town and sat and had a cool drink at one of the bars on the quayside. It was relaxing after the drive across the plains from Seville to just kick back and let everything just pass us by. The next day we caught the Catamaran to Cadiz and were once again pleasantly surprised to find one of the places we missed when we were here so long ago was still relatively unspoilt.Cadiz is one of the oldest settled places in the world and at least as old as what historians mistakenly call Jericho. There were sailors in this port when they were building Babylon and it probably the longest continuously inhabited port in the world.

When Odysseus lived here the Bay stretched as far north as Seville and even today the triangle of land that encompasses Huelva/Seville/Cadiz is barely three metres above sea level with random knolls marking out where former islands dotted this once shallow sea. In fact Cadiz and all the surrounding towns were all once islands that have since been joined by the natural silting of the bay and humans draining and filling to create arable land just as has happened in the Fenlands of Norfolk and most of the Netherlands – same guys, same technology just different time frames. 

No Odysseus wasn't Greek nor Macedonian nor any race that came from the Eastern end on the Mediterranean. He was an Iberian Celt and one of the worlds greatest navigators. The Odyssey recounts his travels from the battlefield of Troy in ancient Britain to West Africa and across the Atlantic to the Caribbean and back to Northern Europe via what we now call Cuba. 

Don't believe me then read the book – Where Troy Once Stood. 

From Cadiz we headed south across the wide flat former flood plains then over the coastal hills to the entrance to the Mediterranean. Gibraltar has had many rulers and when you see it in the flesh you can understand why. Nothing passes through its straits without it being noticed by whoever controlled this 'rock'. The view from the top is spectacular. A 360º view of Sea, Ocean, Africa and Europe. When the Celts controlled it they kept the Mediterraneans out of the Atlantic for 500 years and when the Phoenicians (just Celts by another name) controlled it they controlled the Sea and Ocean. Masters of their Universe.

It may be owned by Britain and disputed by Spain but the dominant language on the Rock is Spanish. It is the cheapest place to buy fuel, booze and ciggies but nothing else. It may be a tax haven but don't expect to get a bargain if you don't smoke, drink or own a vehicle. The prices are no different to the UK and the food is dreadful just like the UK. And the discount stores are all run by Indians and Chinese just like the UK. Spain is cheaper and better value for everything else. We spent two night there and then headed inland.

We left the flatlands of the Atlantic coast and headed for the mountains and the ancient town of Ronda. The town sits astride a gorge that drops sheer for over 300 feet and a narrow bridge connects the two halves of the town. The area around Ronda has been inhabited since the Stone Age but is was the Celts (that would be Odysseus' Celts) who first established a city here. It was subsequently ruled by Phoenicians, Romans, Suebi (Celts again), Christians, Visigoths (another bunch of Celts), Moors, Berbers, (the source of the word 'barbarian'), Christians, the list goes on. It has had a turbulent history and in more modern times was the setting for Hemingway's “For Whom the Bell Tolls”. It appears to have been one of the most strategic pieces of real estate in South Spain for a very very long time. 

The city is a patchwork of ancient and colonial styles with Roman wall perched atop older Phoenician foundations underlying the boundary of a Christian church. Most of the city though is of classic Spanish colonial design, with hints of its ancient past down the narrow shaded side alleys.

We only spent the day here wandering then headed off back down the 35 kilometres of spaghetti that keeps getting dropped on our route. It is a motorcyclists heaven and they were passing us in both direction. Their acceleration and change downs echoed up the valleys. There was no sound of babbling brooks or mountain streams though. Most of the water courses are dry or just pools of stagnant water. The only green on the hillsides are the forests of spanish Fir trees, the only things that seem immune to the drought they are having here in Andalusia. 

We are now camped in Torremolinos. A short bus ride from Malaga. We spent the winter here in Malaga 39 years ago and have very fond memories of this place. The campground we stayed at then has gone now, turned into a beachside park. But the city is much like we remember it. The good burghers of Malaga have taken a lead from Seville's design plan and have modernised the city centre without destroying its soul and character. The old streets have been turned into pedestrian walkways and everywhere there are trees and a colourful riot of beautiful flowers. The squares and plazas are shaded by orange trees and the familiar jacarandas. And everywhere along the highways, byway and parks the good old Aussie gum trees provide shade and hints of home.

So far we haven't found anywhere we want to stay for more than 3-4 days. Most of the coast here is unrecognisable. It's like one big suburb only they are apartments and hotels. It's like Surfer's that stretches for a hundred kilometres. But many are empty and there are dozens of half built apartment blocks and townhouse enclaves that look like they just downed tools and walked away. The fencing still around the perimeter with grass and weeds growing up through the mesh. We have passed at least a hundred abandoned bars/restaurants/petrol stations/factories/offices, as well as holiday and domestic real estate. 

A British couple we met had just sold their townhouse and managed to break even after owning it for 5 years. They know of others that weren't so lucky. Most of the abandoned apartments and townhouse estates were built for foreign investors not domestic ones.

There is a thin veneer of affluence and prosperity here but scratch the surface and you find that Europe in general and Spain in particular is hanging on to the precipice for dear life. I have seen Australia's future and it's not a pretty sight. If you think the Green Dream is the future then come and spend some time here. Europe is now living with the consequences of its own arrogant environmental stupidity. 

We head further East from here towards Almeria. The weather has been brilliant – hot days with cooling sea breezes and cool nights. Hope the winter there isn't too cold and wet.

Seville is astounding.

If anything they have made it more beautiful than we remembered. The tree lined streets and plazas are cool and shaded in the heat of the day. The main avenue has been turned into a pedestrian area with only the tram running down the middle to dodge. It winds and twist but its length is broken up with a sprinkling of plazas where you can sit beneath the green and purple canopy of jacarandas and orange trees before your next sojourn. Running off this main artery is a matrix of cross streets and parallel avenues to explore at your leisure.

The street level shopfronts are all new and a mix on contemporary designs but above that the blend of spanish colonial and moorish architecture that distinguishes Andalusian cities in general and Seville in particular is alive and living in the 21^st Century. The whitewash, the earthy colour pallet, the wrought iron balconies, the brilliant colours and designs of the ceramic tile surrounds that accentuate a window here, a doorway there and a balcony there, are a wonder to behold. 

Then you get to the old part of town around the Moorish Alcazar. Here the streets are narrow and labyrinthine. There is no Minotaur at the centre but you could certainly use some of Ariadne's string. The colours of the plazas and avenues are gone. Here in the narrow alleys there are cobbled greys at your feet, then washed whites to the rooftops interrupted only by the solid browns of doors and shutters and above that vivid blue Mediterranean sky.

The Minotaur's relations reside down the road aways at Plaza del Toro – the bull ring. Yes they still have Bull Fights here in Spain despite the bleating of PETA and the usual suspects. When are theses Bozos going to learn some evolutionary theory. Humans haven't spent all this evolving to end up eating tofu and mung beans and drinking wheat grass. Honestly have you ever met a healthy looking vegan, most are emaciated scarecrows whose friends call them “Rattles” because of the number of vitamin supplement pill they take.

We are camped in a Aire, a very special Aire. It's a marina on the banks of the Quadalquiver River. A little gated community that welcomes motorhomers. The apartments overlooking our little spot are typically Spanish but cast your eyes in the opposite direction and you could be excused for thinking you were on the banks of the Murray River. The chirping of sparrows and native birds, the brown river slowly meandering by and the ever present gum trees lining the river banks make this place homely and special. There's even an outside dunny, how much more Aussie can you get. The Port of Gelves deserves a pat on the back for this place.

Well its time to sign off for now. We head for Cadiz next, the 'real' home of Odysseus.

Homer got it right, History got it wrong.

Reality Bites

Sooner or later the expectation of idyllic past memory is bound to be confronted by the cold hard edge of the present. Madrid was one such awakening. This place is nothing like we remember. Nothing seems the same. It's like the infrastructure giant dropped his bowl of spaghetti all over the map. There are more junctions here than street corners in Manhattan. The 21^st Century has not treated Madrid well. The centre of town is gaudy to put it mildly and sitting at a pavement cafe enjoying a beer and wine on the Grande Via while the local hookers plied their trade was only part of it. It's sad as it was such a beautiful city – well that's what we remembered. The camping ground was ancient and it showed. The giant wasn't the only one to drop things from above. It took over an hour and some cast iron swearing to remove the bird shit from the solar panel and roof of the van the day we left. Not happy Juan. 

Toledo was the next stop and we were going to stop overnight but after finding the city much like Madrid were having reservations. The pseudo “local market” full of tourist rubbish and the dozen bus loads of touristas was enough to spoil the day. So we headed west for Portugal and ended up in one of the best kept secrets in Europe. 

The place is called Caceres. It lies directly north of Seville in the centre of Spain. A 600 year old city left untouched by the rabid dogs of time. It's roots go back to the Romans in 45BC and has been inhabited by both Moors and Christians. You can walk around the Old City and barely see another soul, except for the main square Plaza Mayor were locals and a handful of unexpected tourists sit under shaded umbrellas and sip coffee or something a little stronger during siesta. We wandered the narrow streets and marvelled at the melding of Eastern and Western styles. If your lucky you'll find someone has left the front door open and you get a glimpse of the interior. 

We are now ready to head south. We have decided to give Lisbon a miss and head for Seville and the South Coast – the Costa del Sol.

Run for the Sun

We stayed overnight in Saint Emilion in an Aire - the carpark behind the tennis court along with about a dozen other motorhomers. This is rumoured to be the one of the best wine regions in France. You know the Bordeaux wine region; world class French vintages; centuries of winemaking; yadda yadda, yadda. Well I was totally overwhelmed by the town and totally underwhelmed by the wine. Unfortunately the French haven't sussed out that the best wines in the world are now made below 30° South and on three continents.

The town on the other hand is stunning. It not only looks old it feels old, as if it sprung from the bones of the earth. The church looks that unremarkable you would mistake it for just another medieval building but the interior belies its age. It is exceedingly old and although it has not aged well it still shows glimpses of it's former beauty. There are few stained glass window left but the three panels above the altar are spectacular in vivid reds, blues and yellows. There is even the remains of an ancient fresco on one of the side wall, the figures so faded now it is impossible to decipher the content.

The rest of the town straddles the hillside and the streets are steep and meandering. Walking down the age old cobbled streets is like stepping back at least a thousand year and probably even more. Most of the buildings are filled with local wine merchants offering Degustation and sticker shock for what I personally think is outrageously expensive wine that comprises 25% winemaking skill and 75% pseudo historical spin. Wine for an Emperor with no clothes on. Hans Christian Anderson would be pissing himself.

The next morning dawned grey and bleak so we headed out for the South west coast and St Jean de Luz, just north of the Spanish border. We found a campground right on the beach and were ready to stay and boost our Vitamin D intake for a while but the rainclouds that had threatened in Saint Emilion finally made good their threat and it rained all afternoon and night. We had no intention of sitting around in the van for the next few days waiting for the front to move off, so we picked up sticks and headed into Spain.

Forty years ago I was blown away by the engineering marvel that was the Italian Autostrada system. I was astonished at the way they tunnelled and bridged the backbone of Italy from North to South. Today in Spain they have put the Italians to shame. This country may be on the bones of its arse but at least they spent what they had when they had it on one of the biggest and best modernising infrastructure programs anywhere outside China. The road and rail network is a wonder to behold. It is even more impressive than that of France – and that's saying something.

And it's cheaper. Once they jettison the outrageously obscene subsidies for wind and solar power generation (and they will, it's only a matter of time) they will be well on the way to recovery.

What the Spanish have done makes our outrageously obscene stimulus spending on pink batts, school halls and superfluous rubbish, infantile by comparison.

The rest of Europe is finally waking up from the Wicked Green Witch's spell. The cold hard kiss of reality has woken even the Germans who are now returning to coal fired power to stave off the threat of the power shortages that have plagued Europe for the last three winters. Spring still hasn't arrived and even here in Spain they are planting this years crop late. Some weather pundits here are talking about 'a year without a summer'. Something that hasn't happened here for over a hundred years.

Well here we are in Burgos, on the high plateau that is midway between Santander on the north coast and Madrid at the centre. We are going to have to learn a whole new vocabulary for please thank you and a host of necessary words that we just learned, like bonjour, merci, pomme, lait, burre, baguette and what the hell is a pappelmousse anyway. 

We rode our bike into town through the park and along the river. And all the pedestrian zones are shared with bike rider so you can tour the city from the saddle and stop when you like to take in the sights.

Burgos was another one of those unexpected surprises. It was just a stopover on the way from St Jean de Luz to to Madrid. But I'm glad we decided to stay for two nights. It is a beautiful city with bike track and pedestrian streets throughout the heart of the city. The main city is on the northern side of the Rio Arlanzon and on the southern side is the Paseo de la Quinta, a park that stretches the entire length of the city and beyond that is the Fuentes Blancas nature reserve where our campground is situated. This place is old, as old as Saint Emilion in France and just as spectacular, albeit on a much larger scale. Burgos has it all, gothic cathedral (the first in Spain), 12^th century Cistercian monastery, a medieval fortress overlooking the town, parks and gardens throughout the city and wonderful open air plazas where you can sip coffee or have a quiet beer and sit and watch the pace of life go by. Tomorrow we head for Madrid and weather permitting an extended stay.

You can't get bored in Bordeaux

We've been here in Bordeaux for three days now and it's been great. Just relaxing in the sunshine. Just chilled out on the first day as the weather was so warm. Caught the bus and tram into town the next day and wandered about the city. The centre of town is full of pedestrian streets and there are bike paths everywhere. The city is beautiful. It straddles the banks of the Garonne and is just upstream from the mouth of the Dordogne – Wine Country Central. After wandering the city we relaxed in the park on the river's edge. There is a huge level rectangular paved area that is a fountain where dozens of vertical jets shoot up into the air. But the day we were there it was just bubbling up so all the local kids could play in the water. They were having a ball.

The next day we cycled all around lake where out campground is located. It a huge area north of town adjacent to the huge exhibition centre and sports complex. It's like five Darling Harbours and a Homebush Bay thrown in for good measure. The campground even has a lake – pond really, with a little waterfall.

Its very peaceful here although it does get a little noisy of a nighttime. We don't have to worry about traffic noise because the frogs in the pond drown that out. They must be mating because the racket is unbelievable.

(Croak) I've got a big dick.

(Croak) I've got a bigger dick.

(Croak) No mine's bigger

(Croaky Croak) I've got a big dick and a Ferrari lilypad.

(Ribit Ribit) Bullshit, Bullshit

Well that's what it sounded like to me.

We leave here today for St Emilion, a place Tony mention as worth visiting. 

Then it's off to Spain.

Brittany and the Megalithic Coast

Our travel day was bleak and rainy.

We stayed overnight in beautiful little town called Villedieu les Poeles, which I think means the village of God's frying pans – my French isn't that great. We only stayed the night but have decided to put it on the “Return To” List. When we reached Carnac the next day it was overcast and very windy but the next day was brilliant. The sky was clear and the wind has dropped. We visited the Carnac Alignment – row upon row of standing stones eight abreast mostly. Frozen in time on the French coast like massed troops ready to embark on some long forgotten battle. Granite warriors whose once pristine coats are now covered in ancient moss.

This is know as the Megalithic Coast and boy have we got megaliths for you.

You want standing stones? We got em by the row.

You want Menhirs? We got the plain or the hand engraved “cup ring” model for a few shekels more.

You want Dolmens? We got the single, the double and over here we got the eight tomb family model. I'll just get my slate. How many can I put you down for?

We left the stones and headed out onto Quiberon, a teardrop shaped island that hangs from the coast like a pendant. It was a tidal island once, one of many along the French coast. But like most of the others a bridge has been built creating an isthmus. The island is low and fairly flat on the mainland side but rises toward the sea. It reminds me a lot of Angelsey in Wales and just like that Island this one was also the domain of Druids. Now isn't that a coincidence.

The coastal high ground is barren windswept and boggy underfoot. But the view along the coast is spectacular. The distance coast shrouded in morning mist and haze, the vague horizon where two blues meet as sky marries sea, white triangular sails motoring almost invisible hulls swiftly across the bay and a cup of tea and Bretton biscuits to watch it all go by. And it wasn't even midday – Magic.

We left the island and headed for Auray. It is a small town nestled across a bend in the river Loch. Where else but Bretton would you expect to find a river with a Gaelic name. The town is built on both sides of the river. From main square high on the western side you walk down steep narrow winding cobbled streets until you reach the quayside and then across an ancient stone bridge to the rest of town on the other side of the river where the streets wind up to a chapel on the top of the opposite hillside. The quayside on both sides is crowded with restaurants and bars filled to the brim with customers at lunchtime. Further along quay there is a marina filled mainly with sailboats. We only came here because we glimpsed it as we passed over the motorway bridge further downstream and thought it looked interesting. We're glad we decided to visit. It is a beautiful little town tucked away from the world on a quiet bend on the River Loch.

We leave now for the south and Bordeaux. We may stop at La Rochelle if the weather is sunny. If not we will be heading for Spain.

Normandy and the D-Day Coast

The trip to Normandy was through some of the most beautiful landscape we've seen. The rolling hillsides covered with ploughed and planted fields in one valley then covered with forests in the next. I never knew there were so many shades of green, from the iridescent emerald green of the canola fields before they bloom, to the varied colour pallet of the forests.

We stayed the night on the coast in Villers sur Mer, a seaside resort at the eastern end of the D-Day coast. We stayed in an Aire (its French for Area) and short for Aire du Campingcar. There are thousands of them all over France and the rest of Europe. There are areas where only Motorhomes can stay overnight. Most are provide by the local councils. You can stay overnight and in most you can get fresh drinking water, dump your toilet and grey water. Some even have electricity. Some are free and some you pay a nominal fee for. They are great for stopping overnight and then moving on the next day.

We drove along the coast the next day and visited some of the D-Day landing sites. I can see why the allies choose this stretch of coast. The coastal beaches are very shallow and tide goes out a long way. Ideal for landing craft and men wading ashore. We stopped at the Omaha Beach memorial. The plaques on the dozen stone monument number thousands. Margie found it a little depressing.

We left the beaches behind and headed for Bayeux, just another historical regional town now but in 1066 it was ground zero for the Norman conquest of Britain. Guilleme le Bastard better know as William the Conqueror to the Brits launched his invasion from here and it is here that the Bayeux Tapestry resides. It is not really a tapestry but an embroidery. It is over 70 metres long, 50cm high and tells the entire back story of the conquest. It is an outstanding piece of historical art.