The wind beneath our wheels

Flamingos in Portugal

Firstly, Happy New year - I hope 2019 is shaping up excellently for everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted, what with handing over to Nina last week, so I have plenty to fill you in on….

After enjoying the winter solstice in Torres D’ Aires we decided to spend the next few days at a pretty town a few miles along the coast called Fuseta. We planned to pitch up at a camp site we’d looked up, not minding to pay for a bit of luxury over Christmas, to have electricity, use the toilets, showers etc. However, on arriving and having a look around we were put off - there were lots of hidden costs - for example, you paid for the pitch, then for each person, then something extra for the dog, extra for the electric, extra for this, extra for that. Also, the site was largely populated with French people, not that I have anything against the French, but it was pretty much a colony, with many people living there permanently and it felt a bit like going to a party where you don’t really know anyone. Right outside the campsite, which was enclosed by a high fence (reminding me a little of Butlins), was a large car park directly leading on to the beach – there were ‘no campervan parking’ signs dotted around, which were evidently totally ignored, as there were a handful of motor homes and campers which looked bedded in. We decided to chance our arm and plot up there instead. As it turned out, it was a good decision – we had no trouble from anyone, it saved us a few quid, we had direct access to the beach, beautiful sunsets and with a bit of caution managed to get our electricity to last long enough to have lights to cook dinner and watch a DVD or two in the evening.

Fisherman's Huts, Fuseta

Fuseta is a charming town, a fully operational fishing port, with fisherman huts lining the quayside. There are beautiful walks to be had along the Rio Formosa, a haven for flora and fauna and it’s where we were lucky enough to spot four flamingos taking flight – a sight I truly did not expect to see in Portugal. Whilst there, we met an interesting English guy, a travel writer, who recommended some destinations in Spain to stop off at, later on in our travels.

Christmas day was like non other that I have had - no decorations, tree or presents to unwrap; no getting up at dawn to prep veg; no Quality Street, Baileys or Christmas telly; and to be truthful it was a refreshing change. It’s not like we didn’t ‘do’ Christmas. I enjoyed seeing the Portuguese folk merrily descending on the beach in their Christmas jumpers, popping open the bubbly. The Portuguese are such a jolly nation, on Christmas day everyone greeted us with a smile and a kind word, we walked past a large group of people eating outside their house and they urged us to join them, such is the way of these lovely people.

Our tranquil spot in Torres D'Aires

On Boxing day we headed back to our tranquil spot in Torres D’Aires – a good place to chill out and map out our next move. The original plan was to head to Gibraltar for New Year, but we decided to hedge our bets and go to one of the places recommended by the seasoned traveller and writer (whose name I forget) who thankfully wrote them down in my note book – so it was over to Spain and down to El Palmer, somewhere we had neither heard of or been to.

We are slow travellers - that’s the way we like it; all our routes are ‘avoiding tolls and motorways’ which suits us well, except for when we come across the odd unexpected mountain. In this case, we broke the trip down into chunks, with a few stop offs, the first being Santa Luiza, a lovely little town we had stayed at before Christmas, so we did a night there then headed into Spain and motored across to Seville.

Flamenco dancer in Seville

We had never been to Seville before and were a bit unprepared for the scale of it. From experience we steer away from driving through cities, it’s hectic in the bus, which is big and cumbersome to navigate through busy foreign streets. So we decide to stop at a place just outside the city called Gelves. We found a side street to park in near the port and settled down for the night. The following day we decided to head into town for a bit of sightseeing.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Portugal and got used to their friendly ways, it was a shock to the system to have to deal with my arch nemesis ‘Spanish public transport employees’. Now, most of you probably don’t know this, but for some reason, whenever I have had to deal with bus drivers, ticket offices, basically anything to do with travel in Spain, I hit a brick wall of ‘computer says no’; Hell, I even lost Gabes in Alicante airport once, and last time I left Spain on a plane, I very nearly missed it, not being able to check in online. Anyway, when we were walking into Seville, an 8km trek, we decided after about 4km to get a bus. We had about 4 euros in change on us, we saw a bus, went to get on it, I asked the driver what the fare was; he was miserable man, the sort that hates his job, like most public transport employees. He didn’t speak English so I gave him our money and he gave me two tickets and some change. As we boarded the empty, bar two people bus, he indicated towards Nina, who had been in plain sight all the time and said she needed a muzzle. Now, I’ve done my research and I know that Nina does not need a muzzle in Spain - Staffordshire Bull Terriers do, along with a few other breeds but English Bull Terriers definitely don’t. So, I had this stand off with the driver, he wouldn’t let Nina on the bus, but to add insult to injury, when I asked for my money back he said he could not give it to me as he had issued the tickets. I was so angry - Nick said he’s never seen me so cross. You can’t throw a screwed up bus ticket at someone when there is plexi glass between you, so I had to make do with throwing it on the floor and storming off. The upshot was we walked 8km to Seville city centre. Seville is a grand place and very touristy, but beautiful none the less. We ambled around the beautiful park, admired the fine buildings and then walked the 8km back to bus – I suppose at least we’re getting fit. That evening we had tapas and a couple of glasses of Rioja at the port and then took our weary feet to bed.

The following day after sneaking into the facilities at the Marina for a rare hot and powerful shower we journeyed on to our next destination of El Palmer. We stopped for lunch and a walk around Jerez, famous for sherry and home to a world class equestrian school. Jerez is a gem of a place, I preferred it to Seville, really bustling with many lanes and squares, but sadly also many beggars. After refreshments we headed off and arrived at sunset at El Palmer.

El Palmer is the most surprisingly lovely place, it’s a long beautiful sandy beach, with one long road opposite, along which there are dozens of shanty-town style bars and cafes, a few shops and numerous surf schools. It is massively chilled out. Everyone is happy, cool, good looking, but without pretension – it has a massive feel good factor. I wasn’t surprised to see a cool young dad skateboarding down the road cradling his baby, or to see a dude with dreadlocks walking down the beach with his pet cockatoo on his shoulder. I wasn’t surprised it’s free everywhere to park or that on New Year’s Eve past midnight the doormen at a banging party at a bar were happy to let Nina in along with her two already very tipsy owners. I don’t think I have ever felt so comfortable somewhere in the bus – there were loads of ‘alternative’ travellers, and it was a pleasure to show people round who knocked on our door to praise the bus and ask to come aboard. El Palmer is definitely a place I would recommend and a perfect place to spend New Year’s Eve.

Kite surfer at sunset, Tarifa

We spent three nights at El Palmer and then moved along to the neighbouring town of Conil de Frontera, a nice place, but not half as chilled, especially since we got a parking ticket there, to which we will plead ignorance to! Next stop was Tarifa, not far along the coast, and famous for being Europe’s wind sport capital – they certainly aren’t wrong there because it was EXTREMELY windy, in fact way too windy for me – we stayed one night and enjoyed watching the wind and kite surfers on the beach then headed on to Gibraltar, our current location.

My first impressions of Gibraltar weren’t good - after the relative quaintness of Portugal arriving in Gib was like an assault on the senses – it seemed loud, brash, cheap; fast food, pubs, overweight people, duty free perfume and tobacco shops everywhere with names like ‘Kwality Goods’. My initial urge was to get the hell outta dodge. But experience has taught me not to be too hasty to judge places (or people), and now, a few days in I have seen other sides of Gibraltar and have revaluated my opinion. Yes, if you go to the high street, it is very Englishy, you could be in any UK high street – but of course, it’s British! There were certain things we came here specifically to buy, which we couldn’t have found in Spain, France or Portugal, so I’d be a hypocrite to criticise.

Waterfall, Gibraltar

I liken travelling to doing the lottery – take a gamble on a scratch card and you might reveal a prize - scratch under the surface you can find interesting and lovely things - like, I wasn’t expecting to walk through a tunnel in the rock and find a waterfall on the other side. I wasn’t prepared for the breathtaking sunsets, spanning both Morocco, Africa and Spain, Europe. Tomorrow I’m going to ascend the rock and hopefully see the Apes.

Travelling continues to throw up startling and beautiful things. Here’s to 2019 and more wondrous  surprises.