Christmas

Between the many enjoyable traditional Christmas days I have had, I have also had some less traditional ones.
Eating birthday cake and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus, accompanied by a man playing ommpar music on a keyboard, in India; stands out.  As does cupping a large brandy whilst floating in a roof top swimming pool in Dubai.  Lying in an isolation ward on a quinine drip groaning with malaria was less enjoyable.
This Christmas in Spain, though very enjoyable, weirdly has not felt that different. A couple of beers in the Welcome bar whilst we skyped the UK, then Paella and Christmas pud for dinner, the Queens speech and Doctor Who, had enough elements of a traditional day as well as few different ones.  All with a background 17 degrees, which was lovely.
We thought we would buy a UK paper for Christmas, the tabloids didn't appeal and the only broadsheet was the Saturday Telegraph, with a fine Christmas quiz.  As Cat bought it, the shop owner said: “Bit posh isn't it?" Cat replied, slightly shocked "We are getting it for the quiz" To which he replied, "You must be posh if you can do that quiz" There are so many elements to that comment, all I will say is we didn't do too well in the quiz.  Some mans posh is another man’s newspaper.
Imagine if there had been a Guardian....
We visited the local town of Torreveija and went to see the nativity.  Most Spanish towns have a large model which has scenes from the Christmas story.  This one was excellent and Hazel enjoyed the moving swings, the chickens, the man falling down the stairs and a man having a poo behind a bush!!  Yes that’s right.
Some time ago some model making cad in Barcelona hid said man amongst the bushes of the Nativity model.  A number of complaints led to the removal of the man but he was quickly replaced when even more people complained of his removal! Now most towns put in the man in the bushes.
With a giggle Hazel still recounts. “Man poo in tree Daddy”
Happy New Year.

Costa (not coffee,)

What a great start to the day, the sun was beginning to slowly saunter from East to West, fresh ground coffee was brewing and Barry Manilow had already been played twice on Sunshine Radio, for all your Costa sounds. Not your usual Mandy stuff either, proper album tracks. The breakfast show is sponsored by Specsavers and The English Butchers, (they close on the 23^rd so get all your bangers now).  I was also unhappy to hear, on the breakfast show, that the rumour that had apparently circulated amongst the expat crowd was not true.  If the euro crashes all British Expats will not be evacuated.  Imagine!!

It’s easy to take the mick out of expats and the expat lifestyle in general.  Bingo on Wednesday night, curry on Friday and the English shop to sell you stuff so you don’t have to eat foreign muck.  See; without an effort mick taken.  It would be hypocritical to go too far having greatly enjoyed my time as an expat, looking forward to watching the Premiership on a Saturday and the occasional digestive reminder of home.

However there is a difference between knowing a couple of bars that show the game; to every bar showing it and a major difference between taking a drive to score pizza to desperately trying to find a restaurant that serves Spanish food, in Spain!!  Welcome to the Costa Brava. 

We are just North of Torreveija, a coastal town between Cartahenga and Alicante, our villa is three stories with a roof terrace.  A little more space than the van and 10 minutes to the English shop! And 20 degrees c today....

We did most of our Christmas shopping in Chino metro (think a posh poundland the size of wales) some great pressies to greet Cat and H!!  Christmas dinner is now going to be at home having weighed up the cost of eating turkey for 40 Euros we decided to go with some Rick Stein in Spain inspired Christmas grub, with Cava and Rioja.

Happy Christmas all. Ho Ho Ho.

mmm

A couple of things of note while on the road in the last couple of days.

Fleetwood Mac and The XX are great for cruising alongside and through the parched but colourful Orangery’s of Valencia.

I can sing along to guitar breaks, with irrelevant lyrics.

You simply can’t let a handmade chocolate truffle melt in your mouth without biting into it.

Dali and Spain

Our first stop in Spain was the, dare I say, quite horrible, town of Figueres. It may have left its stain on my memory as we couldn’t find the lovely Aire (the term used for a normally free camper van stop with a loo and water) and ended up in the safe but uninspiring Mercadet Hyper market car park, also an Aire. (Meaning  we had to time our toilet trips with the opening hours as the loos were in the shop!)

Or it could have been the eyes on us as we got lost, in areas that made the Wire seem like Disney or it could have been the fact that the only reason any one would ever visit the God forsaken place was the Dali museum which had one pigging signpost in the whole pigging town.

Mmmm the Dali museum; what a cracking place. Designed by the man himself and opened in 1974 this monument to his work is a living work of art in itself with rooms and corridors designed to showcase and inspire.  Hazel kept saying, for a couple of days after, Wet in the car Daddy, referring to the rain that fell in a full sized car which was one of the works. Her drawing has also taken on some interesting new shapes!

Didn’t really know much about Dali, but am captured by his love of nature and his thinking behind his art.

Where is Waterloo?

My curiosity in Geography started when I collected stamps.  Exotic sounding places, colourful themes and strange currencies sparked my young imagination and I would seek out the countries on my globe and in my atlas, finding out their capital cities and population.  My Geography teachers inspired an interest in the physical and social side of the science and so my love of travelling was a natural progression. 

However in the last few weeks I have wondered where our general geography, names and where they fit on the map, comes from.

The place names that I have recognised on road signs, as we sweep through the E, A and V roads of Europe, can be split into a few categories.

Northern France and Belgium fall broadly into ones that have cropped up on The History Channel, Band of Brothers or a programme featuring Dan and Jon Snow.  i.e.  major battles in the 19^th or 20^th Century.

Central France place names are grape based, particular along the Rhone, or cheese based.

Southern France names are only recognisable if they have a rugby team which play in the Heineken Cup, have an English rugby player in their ranks or featured in a French language text book circa 1985.

And the Spanish coast if they offered daft price holidays in the ‘90s or grow vegetables and fruit.

So I have recognised these place names but now, a big difference, I know where they are!

Barcelona

Well good morning,

I have seen the weather reports so will not go on about sitting in a t shirt. Nice though..
Barcelona was fantastic.  The Sagrada Familia, Gaudis unfinished master piece, is amazing, walking through the doors was literally breathtaking!  We had Tapas and wandered around The Ramblas, Barcelona in 4 hours!
On the road now, will spend more time talking about the last few days.  Guadi and Dali.  The Dali museam was also amazing.
laters
 

The med

Lovely morning today, sun streaming in a balmy 13 degrees.  All good, on the coast by Perpignan, the final 10 minutes to get here was driving between Lac Leucate and the sea with the snow capped Pyrenees in the background, even went for a paddle in the sea, bit chilly.
Campsite is has a on suite! Off to Dali exhibition now, we think Hazel has been inspired already by his work. Spain for Lunch.

lyon

I'll tell you about Lyon when we are both over the traffic, the diversions, the senseless driving and ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
so that's 2013 then

geneva

should of really said a huge thank you to our friends Rach and Steve and baby Sophie who allowed us to sit in more that 10 square metres of space, (that's the van) when we stayed with them for 3 nights in Geneva.  Not only did we go past Cern a couple of time, which was very exciting to think of all the colliding going on, we also drowned in fondue, ate some great food cooked by Rach and slept in a bed! as well doing our washing, watching strictly,CBebbies and MOTD and having a larf!
thanks again.
Cat has just handed me a very stinky piece of cheese that goes well with this fine Cote De Rhone.  We must eat the cheese, otherwise it will shortly take over the van, it's already set up a check point up and no other smells are getting through.

wine and boats

We decided to not do the toll roads today and sample the wide Rhone valley floor on the local roads, through all the villages with name that conjure up all that is best on a wine list, of purely Cotes DE Rhone wines, which would be a bit of crap wine list really.

Yeah right nice and all that, but we got stuck behind a boat, a big boat on a big trailer that was so big it couldn't go round roundabouts the right way. 60 miles in 3 hours, that's slower than  Usain Bolt, (if he ran for 3 hours) was lovely though, not sure why italics on though.

So currently by the Rhone surrounded by wine! The camp site is bang by the river 5 minutes from the centre of Tournon - sur - Rhone, rather than re write a very well written tourist bit, I'll paste it in!!

Tournon acts as a gateway to the Ardeche and lies at the foot of granite hills which rise up from the Vallee du Doux. 
A pretty town with wide tree-lined avenues it is proud of its historical heritage and 11th-16th-century chateau which houses a museum of local history.  To the north of the Grand Rue on Place St Julien lies Collegiale St Julien with its imposing bell tower.  It serves as an example of the Italian influence on architecture in the area in the 14th-century. 
Tournon is a great place to sample some of the delights of the Ardeche such as roasted chestnuts.  Across the river you'll also be able to visit the village of Tain l'Hermitage with its steeply vineyards producing some of the most costly of the Cotes du Rhone wines (white and red Hermitage).

So tomorrow Chestnuts for Breakfast washed down with some expensive red plonk then up to the bell tower to eat granite for lunch. Lovely.