The site is filling up nicely, lots of new vans arriving though none of the big ‘Posh’ stuff we’ve seen on other sites. Here there are a lot of smaller van conversions, VW and Peugeot seem to be popular.
There are a lot of small tents that seem to have popped up over night, a rash of grey domed canvass mushrooms under the trees. Some of these belong to cyclist who arrive laden down with panniers, back packs and bed rolls like they’ve arrived from Calcutta or Bangladesh, except they always look so fit and healthy.
Then there are the Bikers, none the less burdened by kit but clad in leather and usually riding a black and Chrome Harley. When they strip off they are exposed as elderly couples living a dream yet happy to sleep on the ground overnight.
My gran would have had a fit if she’d been expected to camp.
The mornings tend to come with an accompaniment from the Ringneck Dove’s whose chorus sounds like. ‘What do you do, what do you do.’ Though Jaki thinks differently. “I do this, I do this” is her interpretation though I can’t see why when it’s so bloody obvious, but that’s Women for you.
We usually have a cup of tea in bed then Jaki trundles across for a shower whilst i make up the table and put the drop down bed away.
Jaki has been complaining that Tea and Coffee have a slightly unpleasant taste here which gives her the excuse to avoid anything non alcoholic altogether.
So when I found a lot a muck floating around in our clean water tank below the seat I felt I’d discovered the cause. I filled a separate container full of fresh water for making tea and relegated the big tank to washing up till we can flush it out. I think most of this muck came from the hose pipe we used when we arrived here. It was attached to the fresh water tap and we were told by the site owner to use it but it was led on the ground and looked a bit un appealing.
The tap connections here in Spain are a much bigger gauge so the hose pipe we’ve brought from home, which we know has been rigorous cleaned with Milton, can’t be used. We can’t find Milton either so on future trips well bring a bigger supply.
However, the Tea tastes just a ghastly even from the new container so perhaps it’s just the taste of the water.
We had planned to have Sausage and Eggs for breakfast but we had no bread so I got on the push bike and headed for the supermarket. When I got there it was closed.
We should have realised Good Friday in a staunchly Catholic country would impact on the opening hours of the shops and as such there would be a shortage of bread. Most people seem to have expected this and gone out for breakfast as all the bars and restaurants were doing a cracking trade.
Another lesson learned.
I’m not tolerant of this, shops being closed lark. I want to be able to shop for what I want, when I want it. I don’t want to find’ Closed for lunch’ on the Chemist door, I don’t like Butchers that take Monday off or Hardware stores that shut on Wednesday afternoons. It’s taking the piss. I want to shop and I want to shop now.
So I scoured the coast trying to find a loaf (very biblical I though on Good Friday). I called at the few shops that were open and in the end conceded defeat and spent the best part of my €4 on a paper (well, the Mirror but hey the shops are closed) . As the guy gave me my change he advised that the restaurant next door sold bread though now I no longer had any money. Luckily I found a Euro coin in amongst the sand at the bottom of my back pack and secured the last loaf in Mojacar.
We headed to the Beach through the tunnel under the road to be greeted by a strong wind coming in from the Med. We struggled against it for an hour but then I abandoned my post and headed back to the shelter of the campsite where I basked in the Sun whilst reading the paper. Jaki is obviously made of more solid material and she stayed on the Beach until early afternoon when we met at the site Bar for a drink and a Wifi session.
Early evening we could hear the music drifting across from the Beach Bars, so we scrubbed up and set off to explore.
The first bar had some sort of Dance or Techno thing going on with lots of flashing lights and a huge crowd of youngster that had spilt out onto the sand drinking beer and making those funny hand movement they do when they’re dancing or having a seizure. They looked rather odd, like they had been put together wrongly, especially the guys with Baseball caps on back to front, or even worse, twisted off to one side. Very Boris Karloff.
The next bar had a live band who were singing in Spanish and this was rather pleasant but the chances of getting within 20 metres of the bar were impossible.
The next two or three bars looked rather sad with no customers so we gave them a miss and found a Pizza bar on the street that had the last of the sunshine on its terrace so we plonked ourselves down and had a glass of wine.
Walking back we found a bar on the side of the road that was busy but not rammed and we sat there for a few G&T’s. Machamama’s.
They had a BBQ pit going and the burgers and ribs flying out of there looked good with huge great plates of fresh cooked chips, we almost gave in and ate but we knew we had a Frozen Pizza waiting for us at home so we resisted.
But boy the smell of smoked food!
Back at the ranch we cooked Supper (so Nigel Slater) in our wonder cooker which was an interesting take on frozen pizza as the cheese was melted the top cooked but the base was still soft and bread like.
Still some work to do there then!