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Published: December 19th 2016
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Your correspondent is sat in Claude shivering while looking at the torrential rain that has been hammering Calpe for the last three days. Add in the occasional thunderstorm and you will guess that things are decidedly miserable here. Despite these sufferings I shall entertain you with news of our trip to Cordoba and a few other stops as well. So, accompanied by my faithful can of beer, let’s start.
Many people had told us of the beauty of Cordoba but your correspondent always associates the name with Scotland being hammered there in the 1978 world cup final by Peru and then drawing there with the mighty Iran. After a bit of research, I discovered THAT Cordoba is actually in Argentina, so the Cordoba in Spain would hold no dark memories. The campsite promised to be close to the city centre which is all well and good but it means the sat nav revels in taking us straight through the city centre to get there. After a few friendly waves from taxi and bus drivers and words I hadn’t heard in Spanish before, we arrived safely.
Cusco the Chief Spaniel approved of the site as we were able to find
an area for him to run around although we were concerned by a very inviting stream through the fence that he would occasionally stop to investigate – I could hear his mind formulating a plan involving a ladder, wire cutters and ducks!!! Luckily he couldn’t find a ladder, so his plan was foiled. Wendy the Navigator approved of the site as well, as shops and post office were nearby to spend money. Your correspondent had beer in the fridge so didn’t really worry about the site at all!!!
Getting up early (10am is early nowadays) we set off to explore the city. With the aid of a taxi (my knee was not at it’s best) we arrived outside the Mosque-Cathedral of Cordoba or The Mezquita or The Great Mosque of Cordoba or the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption. Cordoba has one of those crazy Roman, Christian, Moorish, Christian sort of situation. The big building certainly took the breath away and we wandered around looking atamazing architecture and a great courtyard in which Wendy spied a tower. Regular dear readers will know that climbing a huge tower on a very hot day is something that she likes to
do best. Off she trotted to get in and Cusco and I repaired elsewhere to find a bar. With 5 seconds we had achieved our goal but straight away a text came through on my phone. My heart sank as the dream of the ice cold beer vanished as W had not been able to get in to the tower – it appears only organised groups are allowed up not disorganised individuals.
We spent the rest of the day exploring the back streets of the city, finding numerous places of interest, bars that sold beer, then down a side street a small café with a few tables outside that offered W a Menu del Dia that she could not turn down, so she didn’t. She devoured the first two courses of delicious home cooked food then ordered a desert and sat expecting homemade ice cream. Her face was fun to watch as the waiter came out with a small plastic tub and a spoon – you can’t have it all.
The journey back north to a small town called Santa Elena took us through what must be the largest farming area of olives in the whole world, apart
from areas that are bigger than it of course. We drove for hours upon hours (2 really) driving thousands of kilometres (about 250) and we were still surrounded by olive groves. Indeed, when we arrived at the campsite in the Natural Parc de Despenaperros, guess what the view consisted of – miles upon miles of sweetcorn!!!! I jest, it was of course more olive groves.
This was a lovely site situated in the Natural Parc. There were many walks that could be taken and outside the site there was a small hotel that provided delicious food. Wendy and Cusco went for a walk first of all. She was given instructions to keep the fence of the campsite on her left and she would not get lost…..but I wasn’t too worried as I knew Cusco would be able to find his way back, which was just as well. She was more successful at the hotel and ordered a salad consisting of oranges, cod, hard boiled eggs, olives and prunes all drizzled over with olive oil. Photographs were taken to show the dish off in all it’s glory.
Although we had a fantastic time in the mountains of central Spain,
it was time to head towards the coast for a bit warmer weather and our chosen town was Oliva around 60km south of Valencia. It was too long a drive to do in one go, so a campsite half way was found and off we went. The motorway was a new one and toll free so it was quite an easy drive apart from when a lorry we over took was spraying salt everywhere and completely covered Claude. Bugger thought your correspondent, I may have to actually clean the van – for the second time in 22 months!!! We turned off the motorway and followed our route up into mountains again, following narrower and narrower tracks, supposedly getting closer to our destination. When we got to the point where we were supposed to drive down an unpaved road for another three miles.
We stopped. We looked down the track. We decided not to go down. We got our phones out to check co-ordinates. We had no wifi. We phoned the site. We had no phone coverage. We started to discuss what to do. We had now been driving four hours for a three hour journey. We decided to drive
back down the mountain and find another campsite. We couldn’t find one open. We got snappy with each other. We wanted a beer (well one of us did). We argued about where to stay the night as was getting dark. We headed towards the coast looking for a site anywhere. We ended up in Oliva six and a half hours after setting off. We arrived in the dark and the rain. We were not happy at all. We then found out that the site had a bar and a pizza take away and all was well in the world again.
The campsite was called Kiko Park and I will tell you all about it in the next blog.
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Albert
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Wet and rainy here. No beer, no pizza?. Happy travels and have a wonderful Christmas!