Back in bricks and mortar

Almost three months without a beautiful big blue blog. Sadly there has not been much motorhome related activity to relate.  The van has spent most of its time sitting in the street getting dusty while we have moved into our flat, smartened it up for sale and sorted ourselves out.



Richard was able to give some attention to the wiring, starting by undoing the mess left behind by the Spanish mechanics.



To our relief, once the relays had been removed (the silvery taped up bundle on the left, installed by the garage in Logroño) the management system detected that the wiring was back to normal and the lights came back on without having to have it reset by the Fiat dealer.

The next stage was to thread a power lead down the length of the van, to install 'El Kit' that we'd bought in the Logroño Fiat garage and get the trailer socket working as it was meant to.  If only that had been done at the start.

There are a few other jobs to do on the van; one of the high cupboards needs some reinforcement and we need to track down and cure a nasty taste in the water system.  That taste has been coming and going since we got back to Europe – we're starting to suspect the smart new hose reel we bought in France.

Stella has signed up with a supply teaching agency and discovered that not only can she remember how to teach but quite likes it.  Richard has set himself to learning the skills he'll need for self employment, spending most of last week learning about WordPress and creating a website announcing our intention to start making laser engraved wooden postcards.  In time, this will be one of several websites promoting different products.

Today we've been celebrating the Jubilee bank holiday weekend by meeting up with friends in Ashford in the Water in the Peak District and going for a long walk from pub to tea-shop to pub.  No photos of us, we all look too bedraggled, but at least the cool weather and light rain is keeping the well dressing in top condition.

 The designs are made with stones, seeds and flower petals set in a clay backing.  It's a wonderful display of traditional skills, re-made every year for centuries.

Our tenants are moving out on June 10th, so we can finally go properly home where we'll have space for all the things we're missed during our travels – space to plant out our pumpkins, space to work and, most importantly, space for a dog.

The Rain in Spain....

Since the last blog we've continued east across northern Spain, then north through France.  We're writing this on the ferry from Le Havre, en route towards Portsmouth and home (14/03/12).

Spain started well, with a visit to Salamanca.  Although we've spent a fair bit of time in Spain, we realised this is the first time we've visited the Castillian heartland.  In most other places we've been there's been more or less of a local national identity, and often a local language.

Salamanca is a beautiful city filled with sturdy blocky buildings made from warm, golden sandstone, from the Spain's golden age of expansion, reconquest and imperial riches.



Its twin Cathedrals (one Gothic, one even Romanesque) are very impressive, but following our campsite owner's advice we spent much of our time exploring the ancient University and the excellent tapas bars. The old University has the most fantastic Plateresque façade – a decorative style of shallow relief and intricate detail based on the work of silversmiths. You can spend hours staring at it, noticing new things all the time, but for good luck you're apparently supposed to look out for the frog.



We also found that the Museum of Art Nouveau and Art Deco was free on Thursday mornings (just when we happened to be there; an unexpected stroke of good luck) so we spent an enjoyable morning wandering around the exhibitions there.




The Hassle Blog

The closer you get to Britain, the more the hassle mounts!

We were aware that we were probably getting close to the legal weight limit for the van.  Now we were on our way home we wanted to be able to pick up some more souvenirs without getting uncomfortable, unsafe or illegal.  When we bought the van almost two years ago it came with a tow ball – a nice extra.  We decided to buy a trailer.

Since we'd never used the van to tow, we weren't 100% sure the tow hitch worked, so before we handed over the money we plugged the trailer in and checked the lights.  All was well, so we paid, hitched up and continued east across the monotonous wheat fields of Castille (in driving rain, then thunderstorms and hail the size of chickpeas).

It was as we were about to set off from Burgos that we realised that neither the trailer nor the van's sidelights worked.  When we unplugged the trailer the van lights came back.  This was the beginning of a long and convoluted story wherein we tried our very best to do the right, legal thing, spent several hundred euros and three days at three supposedly reputable Spanish garages, where new lighting faults appeared and disappeared, auto-electricians shouted at each other, hacked at our wiring and showed no understanding of what was going on.

After a day at the Fiat dealership in Pamplona we decided we couldn't afford the time or money to continue to pay Spanish mechanics to damage our vehicles.  We left with no sidelights working on the trailer, and only working on one side on the van (even with the trailer unplugged).  We decided to drive only in daylight with the trailer unplugged and to head for home, where at least we could argue with mechanics in English.

That's been fine so far (which is to say there's been no fine).

What I think has happened is this.  In old style cars, when you used a light switch on the dash, it sent current down a wire to the relevant bulbs at the back.  You could add a few extra bulbs on a trailer without problems.  In newer cars the switch tells a computer that you want that light on, then the computer sends an instruction through the vehicle's network to tell the light to come on.  If the bulb draws less current than expected the computer thinks the bulb has blown and illuminates a warning light.  If the bulb draws more current than expected, it assumes there's a short circuit and closes down that section of the lighting system, which can only be reactivated by a garage with Fiat's special interface.  I've read articles about this technology, explaining how much weight it saves, but it's clearly not common knowledge amongst Spanish auto-electricians.

The other hassles were:

• a burst pipe in our house, damage to ceilings, carpets and the contents of the loft, and understandably very unhappy tenants
• an attempted burglary at the flat we're moving into when we get home.  Insurance claim, £100 excess, only one key for each flat
• The Companies House annual return for the flat management company was overlooked, leading to an automatic £100 penalty and risk of forfeiting ownership of the freehold

All this suddenly needed our urgent attention, even though it was from a carpark in Spain on 38p/minute cellphone calls and emails from a laptop with 20 minutes battery life remaining.


The Wine Blog Bit

So after all that it was nice to revisit La Rioja in the springtime.  Obviously there was no blazing autumn colour this time, just rows of bare twigs, but the landscape is still lovely and if you looked closely at the vines you could see felty grey buds just  beginning to swell.  Teams of workers are still out in the fields doing the last of the pruning.  We spent a bit more time in garages than we would have chosen to, but we found time for a night out in Logrono's tapas bars around Calle Laurel and to visit our old friends at bodegas Navajas were we started to load up the trailer.



Next stop was Blaye in the Bordeaux wine region, which we last visited on our way south in October 2010.  We caught up with some people, unfortunately missed some others, met some new people, saw some changes and collected a few more bottles.

We also collected a pallet of a hundred empty wooden wine boxes, as part of a cunning plan which may be key to our futures.  The following two days could have featured in the Hassles Blog as we struggled to repack the teetering tower of empty boxes in a less alarming shape, and also find space for wine and other odds and ends, balancing the weight of van and trailer and get the whole lot secure enough for the trip home.



Bordeaux to Normandy ended up as a long day of driving with not much time for sight seeing, but the van and trailer behaved well. We finished the day at a lovely, sleepy little town called Gacé, south of Liseaux. Gacé is well supplied with boulangeries, patisseries, and bars, and the kind townsfolk have provided a free parking spot for motorhomes right outside the Mairie. You've got to love the French!



Today we finished off our great adventure with Moules Frites, sitting in the sunshine at Deauville, and caught the ferry without incident.

Tomorrow, another long drive back to Cardiff to unpack, find our new front door keys, straighten out a few messes and start to reintegrate into society. Wish us luck folks!

The 'better late than never' Portugal blog

As we set off for home from Andalucia we decided we couldn't bear to miss out completely on Portugal, so made a loop to the west through Lisbon and Porto, and really loved it.

We found warm sunshine, welcoming people, granite cliffs and beaches with lovely, crashing Atlantic waves, cheap campsites (and plenty of wild camping opportunities), port wine and some beautiful towns and cities – how could we fail to enjoy it?

Our first stop was at Évora,  a pretty and very peaceful little yellow and white town with some impressive old buildings, the ruins of a Roman temple and a still functioning aqueduct.



This was also the first place that we encountered a tourist product that we later saw all over Portugal – a huge variety of things made of cork. There were pot stands and coasters, which we'd expect, but also cork postcards and a huge range of hats, bags, wallets, shoes, belts etc, all made of an incredibly soft cork, which feels just like leather.

After Évora we made a trip through the Parque National da Arrábida, where pretty villages snuggle into rich green forested hills that slope steeply down to the sea.   We ate far too much of the local speciality – choco fritos (fried big squid) and spent a night wild camping on a clifftop at Sesimbra with some friendly cats for company. The next morning we visited the old monastery at Cabo Espichel before heading off for Lisbon.  The monastery is out on a bare and windswept headland, with clifftop views out over clear blue sea.  We both felt there was a distinctly Atlantic atmosphere about this coast – at times there was something of Cornwall about it, but with baroque churches, red tiled roofs, blue wooden fishing boats and palm trees.



Lisbon was a lovely city break for us. It's a busy, lively town with some pretty areas, some ugly, ex-industrial areas, some picturesque but crumbling areas and some stunning monuments. The temperature was perfect when we were there, but in summer, when it's scorching hot, people must be glad that the coast and the mountains are within easy reach. We stayed in the Belem district, by the port, where some of the best monuments are within easy walking distance and the others are a tram ride away.



We caught the tram into the city centre and spent the day wandering,  In the evening we ate at a restaurant in the Bairro Alto listening to fabulous live Fado music.



Next we visited the coast again and stayed at a campsite at the seaside resort of Cascais, where it was so warm that we hung out washing out before going to bed and it was dry in the morning. It's very different to February at home!

Then it was off to Sintra for some exercise. Sintra is a very attractive but very hilly place. It was apparently a favourite summer refuge for royalty and their courtiers, so it was crowded with ostentatious houses and palaces, mainly Victorian.  There are some very smart mansions and fairytale castles, although many of the fine old buildings are now derelict – they have far more palaces than are needed in a skint twenty first century republic.

 

We followed signs up a cobbled hill to the Moorish Castle – high in the forest overlooking Sintra. It was rather further, and steeper, than we'd realised but once we'd started we couldn't give up. The castle itself, way up on the crag, has great views over Sintra, across to nearby palaces, the coastal plain and out to sea. It is very restored (Fernando II was very fond of it's romantic ruins) and we had a lovely walk around the battlements. The only disappointment was the lack of a café, but the town made up for that (see the pastry blog).



That night we had planned to visit a recommended free motorhome spot at a famous surfing beach at Ribamar near Ericeria, but the place must have been overwhelmed with visitors and they have put up 'No motorhomes' signs.  We carried on until we found a deserted carpark overlooking a sandy cove. We spent the night with the sound of the waves and a hooting owl to serenade us.



Next stop was the spectacular walled town of Obidos where we climbed up and walked around the ramparts. From here we could see the surrounding countryside, but also enjoy the view across the terracotta rooftops of the town - like a mini Dubrovnic.



We spent a couple of happy hours in Obidos before setting off for Fatima where we spent the night in a motorhome parking area only a couple of hundred metres from the cathedral and its incredible shrine complex. As non believers we were rather astounded by some of the things we saw here – in particular the shops selling a mixture of tourist tat and religious stuff.  A typical place would sell wax feet and heads to be used as offerings, giant candles, statues of saints and Our Lady (green is popular), Sporting Lisboa football shirts and cockerel tea towels.  Once place had wax intestines – I'm sure it makes sense if you're Catholic. 



Our final Portuguese city was beautiful Porto. We arrived at Vila Nova de Gaia on the opposite bank of the River Duero, where the wharves are crowded with port wine warehouses and traditional river sailing boats.  Our first sight of Porto was the view across the river to the multicoloured town, studded with baroque towers, draped over the hillside and framed by spectacular bridges.   Since Porto is a city built on a hillside, our legs got another workout, but it makes for an extremely picturesque landscape.



The wine blog

While in Porto, we obviously had to take a tour of one of the wineries, and sample their products – well it would be rude not to!  We were particularly impressed with their white ports – not something we encounter so often in Britain.



Apart from the fortified wines of Porto, Portugal makes a wide variety of table wines – red, white, green and sparkling.  Wine shops and restaurants offered a bewildering range of local wines, most of which were completely unfamiliar to us.  During our brief visit we made little progress in making sense of it all, but we can say there's plenty of variety and a wide range of quality.  The green wine, 'Vinho Verde', is a young dry white wine from the north, slightly sparkling in one restaurant we visited, and very good.

The pastry blog

Pastries seem to have a very prominent position in Portuguese culture and are the subject of much regional rivalry.

In Lisbon we read about a famous cake shop which took over the local monastery's recipe for 'Pasteis de Belem', the most famous version of a famous pastry.  The shop and café comprised a warren of rooms, all lined with blue tiles, with big glass windows to see into the kitchens. The pastries were delivered to our table warm from the kitchens; crisp filo pastry cases, browned and buttery, filled with a soft warm custard delicately flavoured with cinnamon. Delicious!



Sintra also had a historic cake shop, selling the local speciality 'Quejadas'.  We found the shop easily as it was the one that looked like it hadn't been redecorated in a century and had a big queue of people inside.  The quejadas turned out to be small tarts with a dense crisp casing, a sweet mealy (rather than custard) filling with a nicely browned top. We bought some to take away, as well as  some puff pastry rolls that everyone else seemed to be ordering, and they came so beautifully wrapped that it seemed a shame to open them.



The puff pastry rolls turned out to be Travessieros, they were encrusted with sugar and half filled with a sweet yellow goo, possibly pumpkin based. Very nice.



And then...

After not quite enough of Portugal we forced ourselves to head back into Spain and off eastwards.  We've made our way through the wheat fields of the Castilian meseta roughly parallel to the Duero / Douro river.  That route will take us into the Ebro valley and La Rioja, before once again crossing the Pyrenees into France.  There's a growing feeling of being on the way home, planning the practicalities of reassembling something like a normal life. 

There are some things we're very much looking forward to, but we wonder how we'll manage with the climate, the Olympics, the 60th Jubilee and finding that we understand what the people around us are saying all the time!

Back to Europe

Since the last blog we've spent one night in Martil, as planned, then back to Port Tanger Med and crossed to Algeciras. 

We spent our first night back in Europe in a big free campsite on the border  between Spain and Gibraltar then made our way to El Puerto de Santa Maria, where we've stayed before, for a few days of luxury on a very well organised and comfortable site.  From there we had an enjoyable day trip to Jerez, then moved to a campsite outside Seville and spent a relaxing day rediscovering what a lovely city it is. On this visit we realised that the famous Giralda is indeed just an Islamic minaret with a bell tower and statue stuck on top.

The Giralda, Seville

Minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque, Marrakesh

Since then we've made a loop through a bit of Southern Portugal and back to El Puerto de Santa Maria,  to catch the 'Carnaval' celebrations in Cadiz.



We thoroughly enjoyed Morocco, but on our return to Spain we were surprised by how relieved we felt, and how much it felt like coming home!  The town of La Linea de La Conception, which looked so sad and dowdy on our way out, looked so neat and prosperous when we returned.  After two months in Morocco even Franco's unlovely 1960s port of Algeciras looked like something out of Switzerland.

The part of the Algarve that we visited was, as we'd expected, full of Northern Europeans basking in the warm sunshine. However, it was also very pretty and peaceful. We visited the Rio Formosa National park, which is great for bird watching and saw flamingoes, spoonbills, curlew, egrets, storks and geese as well as many other types of wader that we didn't recognise.



The campsite we stayed at, Camping Moncarapacho, was very characterful; a big field with scattered vans, scattered animals (horses, camels, a pig, a macaw, highland cattle, an alpaca), scattered circus vans, including a human cannonball cannon. Only 7 euros a night including electricity, showers & wifi, almost as cheap as Morocco, but you know you're not in a Muslim country any more when there's a pet pig on the campsite!




We also took a scenic drive through the cork oak region, then paid a short visit to Alcoutim, a quiet little town on the Rio Guadiana , which forms the border between Portugal and Spain. Strangely, although you can see Spain clearly just over the river, there is no bridge or car ferry to allow you to cross here. We stayed the night at a smart new aire. Free water, waste dump and even electricity as well as a view across the river. Perfect we thought. Unfortunately, although the town was quite sleepy, the local dogs were having a festival of barking that night so it wasn't as peaceful as we'd hoped.

Sanlucar de Guadiana (Spain) from Alcoutim (Portugal)

We decided to add a week to our journey home, and backtrack to El Puerto, because we'd been told that the Carnaval celebrations of Cadiz are among the best in the world and are definitely worth seeing.



The first challenge was getting to the event. We arrived at the ferry port in El Puerto de Santa Maria planning to catch the 12:00 ferry and joined a spectacular queue of Spaniards, many in fancy dress, waiting surprisingly patiently.



We finally crossed at 14:00 and joined the thronging mass of revellers enjoying the day's festivities. We'd read that Cadiz carnival is famous for the satirical groups called chirigotas, who perform comic songs, accompanied by guitars, kazoos and drums. We knew that we'd have little chance of understanding the satirical songs, but could certainly join in with the eating, drinking and admiring the parades. As it turned out, the chirigotas were spectacular and very entertaining to watch; and they were everywhere. Some large groups were on floats being pulled through the crowded streets by a tractor.




Some small groups were performing at street level.



Some were clearly High School pupils.



and oe group even gave an impromptu performance on the ferry back to El Puerto.



One of the best things about the festival was how very good natured it was. The streets were packed with people, all of whom seemed to have been drinking all day, yet we didn't see any sign of  arguments or even bad tempered shoving. Everyone, from babies to grumpy old ladies seemed to be entering into the spirit of the carnival and having a good time.

Return of the wine (and food) blog.

One of the first jobs when we returned to Spain was to uncover our cache of hidden wine.

Back in December we found ourselves about to cross to Morocco with much more than our permitted alcohol allowance. Despite our best efforts we knew that we couldn't drink it all before we crossed. So we  wrapped our excess booze in black plastic bags and hid it in bushes on the beach at La Linea de la Conception.  However, as we travelled around Morocco we met many Northern Europeans who had stocked up with wine and beer at Spanish supermarkets before crossing; they obviously knew something that we didn't, or knew how to grease palms at the border. Goodie-Goodies that we are, we arrived in Morocco with 1 bottle of cava and 1 bottle of Torres brandy with which to celebrate Christmas and the New Year.

On returning from Morocco we were initially alarmed to find that all the leaves had fallen off the bushes that were our carefully chosen hiding places; but delighted to find all our wine was safe.

We really aren't cut out for life in a Muslim country. It is possible to buy wine in the big French style supermarkets in major towns, but anything that has to be imported is extremely expensive. The few Moroccan wines that we tried were ok, but they just don't compare to a nice Spanish or French wine.



As for the lack of pork; that was even harder to bear. Especially when you're so close to Spain with their delicious Iberian pork, 'albondigas' meat balls and the wide range of jamon. Our first night back in Spain involved a feast of pork products, which of course formed a perfect accompaniment to a good drop of  Rioja.

'Presa Iberica' - Pork with a ham garnish

One more previously undiscovered gem that we've recently come across is 'Tortilla de Camerones'. These shrimp fritters seem to be a speciality of the Cadiz region, they were selling them all over the place during the festival, and they are delicious! Sadly we're not going to be able to stock up on them so we'll just have to trawl the web for the recipe when we get home.

Our plan now is to have one more night in Spain, at an aire in Zafra about 100km north of Seville, then cross back into Portugal and loop through Lisbon and Porto before heading back towards Spain. From then on it's a fairly direct route back to Britain, though obviously we can't come home until we've made a final trip to Rioja and Bordeaux.

Merry Sidi Mohammed Ben Aïssa's Day one and all!

Meknes spent a period as the capital city of Morocco under King Moulay Ishmael, famous for consolidating the unified country, his enthusiasm for building works and committing bloody murders.  Much of what he built was destroyed in the 1755 earthquake, but the city still has enough to show how splendid it was, including the late king's ornate mausoleum (above). Part of the attraction of Meknes is that it's less visited, less tourist oriented, quieter and less pressured than Fes.  We didn't get the full benefit of that, but got other benefits instead, as we happened to turn up for the biggest party of the year, the highlight of Meknes' calendar, the twin festivals of Mouloud and the Moussem of Sidi Mohammed Ben Aïssa.

Morocco celebrates Mouloud (Mohammed's birthday) with more enthusiasm than anywhere else (in some Muslim countries such as Saudi Arabia the celebration is banned entirely).  In Meknes in the days around Mouloud they also commemorate their local Sufi Saint  Mohammed Ben Aïssa whose tomb is in the northern edge of the city.

We found it surprisingly hard to get firm information on what was likely to be happening, when and where.  The well hidden Meknes tourist office didn't seem to know anything, reports on the web were vague.  In the event I'm sure we missed some things, but we saw plenty.

Town was absolutely heaving with people, mostly shopping.  Far be it for us Europeans to accuse Moroccans of consumerism, but there was an incredible retail frenzy.  We retreated from one street in the medina, crammed with stalls and people, when there seemed to be a real possibility of people getting crushed.  The strangest thing was that most of them seemed to be joining the crush to buy things that they could have bought any day; socks, acrylic blankets, plastic stools and fruit.



A pottery stallholder gave us an explanation that might help to make sense of it.  In his view, Meknes is the capital of Berber Morocco and everyone who can comes into town for the two festivals.  For people who live in the remote mountain villages this might be a rare opportunity to stock up on big city produce.

On some rough ground on the outskirts there was a huge heaving funfair, surrounded by handcarts selling nougat and charcoal grilled brochettes.  All around the streets were gridlocked with frustrated, ill tempered traffic.  The air was filled with the smoke of burning meat, fairground music, car horns, police whistles and screams from the walzers.

In the main square in the town centre, Place Lahadim, there were knots of people gathered around story tellers, musicians and acrobats, and opportunities to take photos of your toddler on a horse.  But there were other, more exciting, horse opportunities to be had, as we later found out.

After a couple of attempts we finally located Sidi Mohammed Ben Aïssa's mausoleum on the edge of a cemetery north of town.  When the French captured Morocco this is where they found his Sufi followers celebrating his teaching and exploiting his magical protection by catching cannon balls on their heads, eating live scorpions and chopping at each other with axes.  The French banned those antics, but this remains the focal point of the Brotherhood's religious celebrations – these days singing, dancing and chanting the beautiful names of God.  By the time we arrived all there was to see was a stream of people making their way into the mausoleum and an eager crowd looking out for VIP visitors.



Our guidebook and various web pages agreed that the celebrations of the Moussem of Sidi Mohammed Ben Aïssa included a 'fantasia', but couldn't agree on where or when.  A 'fantasia' is a display of traditional military horsemanship involving dressing up and galloping around firing muskets.  Teams complete for prizes awarded for skill and the most splendid tack and costume.  Some fantasias are put on for tourists, but others such as this one are for local enthusiasts.

Everyone we asked either knew nothing about it, or gave us a different time and place.  We managed to track down a large field just outside the city walls where tents were being erected and horses delivered in wagons.  We came back on each of the succeeding days to see if anything was likely to happen.



It all came together on the day of Mouloud.  We arrived to find men striding around in pale jelabas and white turbans, elaborate brocade saddles stood outside on hay bales, horses being groomed and muzzle loading muskets being test fired. 




By 11am everyone was ready and the competitions started.

Teams rode the length of the field up to a barrier where presumably the judges were.  Some rode slowly in close formation, then saluted the judges by bowing deeply from the saddle and twirling their muskets so the barrels faced backwards under their arms.  Others galloped hell for leather, yelling, before coming to an abrupt halt with a belly shaking volley of muskets.  The aim seemed to be to keep in a close group and to act in unison.  We thought it was a sport that Fenella  (Richard's cousin's wife) would probably be pretty good at, but we're not sure if any of the teams are yet ready for a female warrior.

Some teams made it look easy, others demonstrated how difficult it really was.  While we were there only one guy got taken away in the 'Croissant Rouge du Maroc' ambulance but a few more must have been bruised or scorched.

We left Meknes still thronged with celebrating Berbers and made our way north through the spectacular Rif mountains...



... to our present location in a popular campsite on the hillside overlooking Chefchaouen. 

This friendly little town is famous for its blue and white painted medina, apparently repainted that way when the town was occupied by Jews exiled from Spain.



The guidebooks didn't pay as much attention to its spectacular setting, nestled in a cleft between two soaring cloud capped crags, but we think it's stunning. We climbed up to the old Spanish mosque today and enjoyed the fabulous views over the town.



We're planning to spend another night here before making our way to a campsite by the beach at Martil on the Mediterranean coast, and then back to Tangier Med and finally, by the end of the week, back to Spain.