She's only there because she's just out of repair from the yard, I say repair as opposed to refit because she could do with a coat of paint but I suppose in this climate you could do that whenever you want. She was put back afloat last Friday and up till then, since we arrived anyway, she's been on the slip being antifouled and I suspect having something done to the gland. I only surmise that because
whenever I walked past there were a group of chaps under the transom and weather suggests that they weren't sheltering from the rain. The prop was off too.
Yesterday she was having more welding done to the aft gantry and fittings on the scotch pole, if that's what they call it here which I doubt. Today I can't see anyone working around her or on her but there's lots of mending gong on ashore. Maybe she got mopped up as that would explain why she was not at sea, after all I couldn't imagine that days at sea rules affect anyone not uK registered.
She's a fine boat and I don't think she's finished yet unlike me who's looking at boats again when plans have been made on my behalf. Oh, dear, I just don't get the constant need to know what comes next but duty calls as does the Chief Planning Officer.
Seems we're off for a ride north back to the town whose name we must not mention. We'll call it Voldemort, then. A ten minute stroll involving the 100% efficient escalators, a twenty minute ride and we're there. It's got hotter. This time I'm instructed to follow and not wander off. OK. Darting across a main road which last time we followed to the bitter end we made a left and down several quite steep flights of polished slippery steps and were back in the central park.
What a wonderful park it is and pretty much deserted. Near the top is the bullring, a bit past its sell by but it oozes tradition now cleared out by the new ways and the top arc of its facade is now home to Academie de Musisca and as we approached the sounds emanating from it were enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck take notice. It may only have been practice but it sounded wonderful and unexpected. Continuing the downward slope the large Auditorio de Juli Iglesias opens out and we pass through. I couldn't resist a whistle and even my whistle sounded good. Then the palm lined avenue pauses to allow a couple of semi circular smaller auditoria with steps on the highest side, the north so on a summers evening you'll sit, listen and glow as the sunsets. You couldn't drag me back here in summer for all the tea in China, mind!
The park ends at the Ayuntamiento buildings, the town hall. In a town of respectable architecture it would stand out, here it's as if it's been designed by Phillipe Starck placed here by Yoda and The Force. Very impressive, in many ways understated but some lovely touches. Not quite symmetrical, slatted windows with script inelligible for this distance engraved on them, void spaces in no specific pattern, one allows a concrete truss to pass through it and another holds a beautiful clock face, elegant and easily read. A place to pause and sit a while in an arty set of wonderfully curved injection moulded seats.
On the way back there was a wedding shoot taking place in one of the smaller auditorios, photographers in black tee shirts emblazoned with their names and logo, a Bride in Ivory on a stone stairway, a groom stage left looking approvingly at her, bridesmaids in heavy coats waiting their turn. Voldemort is able to surprise and to deliver some very classy touches but you have to look hard and go where no one else goes.
Once past this point we had to run Voldemorts gauntlet of people aimlessly slithering about, crazy mobility scooters bashing their way through. The trick is to get behind a double mobility scooter. If there are a pair the front one is always turning slightly to see where the following one is but a tandem one just keeps rolling along. It was a plan and it worked. Only a few metres and the Old Town hove into sight, the upward slope being empty was the sign.
The Old Town is architecturally rather nice but the tat for sale is unbelievable but there were no buyers so we could just pass by. When you stand on top of its promontory and look about, you can see through the high rise. It's possible to consider that this must have been a pair of stunningly decent sandy bays. Steep hills a k or two inland, gently sloping down to a pair of beaches sheltered by two
headlands at each end and split by this promontory in the middle. It must have been a lovely place. Indeed, if you can stop yourself thinking "mutton" and "lamb"; if you can try to not stare at the hideous clothes some wear; try not to laugh at the depth of makeup that some have to to trowel and the dire sense of colour you can see that it is quite a place.
Sadly, I can't. So we walk the north shore, head down. The further north the more "Britishness" becomes apparent. I hope that when Mr.G. Brown (Absent MP but still taking the dosh) tried to establish "Britishness" he didn't have this in mind although I suspect he did as I bet loads here are on the dole , collecting in absentia, just like him. Last time here I saw Ena, this time I heard her, everywhere. A few Geordies, some scouse but all northern accents and outside The Scottish Pub, some scots banging on about something or other. That "pub" is next to "The Rose and Crown....A british Pub Run by Bill & Sheryl From Crowthorpe". They'll out do the Scottish by not selling you a Pint but a Bucket Of Beer. They do all day breakfasts as well. Fish and Atlantic cod are available next door.
Between the two lies "The English Church" on the pedestrian thoroughfare between the seafront and Avenida del Mediteraneo which is the street that runs parallel to the seafront. We decided that having walked the entire length of the seafront (north) we could not be expected to dodge the mobility scooters, not all of which are driven by the elderly or the infirm. There were quite a few instances of
families with small kids attached to them as well and one or two solos with youngsters out for a play, allegedly.
Every shop front along the prom is dedicated to either eating, drinking or both. Nothing else. Each vies with one another for the honour of being the most garish example of bad taste. So many to choose from a winner would be hard to find although one or two stand out but it's best not to mention them as one doesn't know who'll read this.
Avenida del Mediteraneo is a bit of a canyon lined each side with shops at the bottom of the mostly hideous tower blocks, almost all tacky in the extreme, some faux designer, leather goods that look like plastic abound and a Carrefour. Now, I thought Carrefour was French but this one had a Union Flag on a display board telling the world that English goods were stocked here. We had to go in, didn't we, it's not every day that the French see their way to doing the right thing. Inside much of it was familiar to me who is not in any way an expert on English Supermarkets although, even if I say so myself, I'm getting to know my way around Masymas y Pan shops rather well and carrying shopping bags is helping with the good will. Hence, I know that in no supermercado here are there any baked beans. I didn't want any but I was aware that there weren't any if I did, which, as I say I didn't. In Voldermort Carrefour Supermercado were rows of them by numerous manufacturers but as we all know Beanz Meanz Heinz. So I bought two tins. I don't know why because I didn't want any, I didn't go looking for them but there they were and I bought two.
I suppose that I'll bung a tin in a pan and add a drop of olive oil, crush some garlic, chop a lump of chorizo up and simmer till thick and gooey then serve with lettuce, tomato, allioli, pan y olives to give it a Spanish touch. Just as well we can't eat tonight, eh?
Our relief at arriving home far later than expected meant that the bocadillo y mahou was later as well so we decided that I'd start writing this and then we'd escalate to the chocolate shop. I thought of our daughter, home after work in the cold, wet mankiness after a gruelling day at work and there were we, alone in the window seats at sunset with a mug of hot chocolate and we're not talking powder and boil a kettle, we're talking the real deal. Standing a spoon up in it is possible but they give you churros, about a yard and a half of coiled up doughnut sticks, cut into lengths of about a foot, an inch or so in diameter for you to stand them up in it. Then you eat them, bit by bit by bit and so on. Till you feel a bit like not eating any more for a while and needing to waddle about for a it, too.
Back now, full fat and fabulous.
Another great success by the Chief Planning Officer.
Better than looking at boats all day.
Probably.
One of the more decent sea front establisments vying for your business.
Downtown Voldemort, Avenida del Mediteraneo.
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