Stunning Segovia and onto Toledo

The following morning we're up before the birds (though as its not getting light now until about 8am its not hard!) and out onto the city motorways to Segovia, and hundred or km's north of Madrid. Given its still dark we're surprised to find the motorways alive with traffic; we thought Madridian's were late starters!

It doesn't take long for us to motor our way up to Segovia where we were planning to spend the night. But we can't find the campsite! We find cheap parking instead so change the plan and park up just outside the historic centre. The famed aqueduct cuts across the street and through the city in front of us. It's massive and we're massively impressed. We walk up into the old town which has a great main street and intriguing narrow and windy alleyways leading off, begging to be explored. There are some very pretty churches along the way, but when we step out into the main square we are staring across at the main cathedral which is a beautiful, almost palatial jumble of spires and roofs. Unsurprisingly the centre of Segovia is a UNESCO site.

We carry on through the narrow streets and end up at the end of town in front of the castle. There are policemen everywhere. The place is crawling with them. Something seems to be going down here and no one is allowed into the grounds of the castle. Eventually we're allowed in, subjected to a bag and person search and walk up to the castle entrance only to be told its shut today. We mooch about the gardens for a bit, whilst more police and dogs arrive and head into the castle. It all seems to scream trouble, my gut feeling is maybe they've had a bomb scare and clearly we're not going to get in today so we head back through town to Betty.

We jump in Betty and head back down the road, past Madrid to Toledo. We've struggled to find somewhere to stay in Toledo, but Ruth reckons she knows of a campground right in town. True enough she does and its pretty nice. We park up, have a late lunch (which is becoming a bit of a habit!) and catch the bus into town.

The old town looks pretty nice from a distance, but up close is a little disappointing aside the old and beautiful bridge that links the new and old town. We wander for a bit, try and find an English newspaper and fail. We come across a couple of bakeries with replicas of the castle, made entirely from mascarpone; in fact mascarpone seems to be the town's big thing food-wise. So we get some from one of the bakeries and its not bad. The other big thing in town is knives. We head into one sword making place, turns out they made the swords for Lord of the Rings. We take our leave and head down to the river before walking around the old town and back to camp.

Monday Night Tapas in Madrid

It's still raining on and off in the morning when we leave Valencia. Somewhere down the road it starts to rain as we're driving. We decide to try the wipers but we're not hopeful. To our disbelief they work perfectly. So it seems that when we kept trying to make the wipers work and tried to fix them in camp the other day we were missing one vital factor. Water. Moisture. Yup, go ahead laugh. So we send off a rather sheepish text to NZ to let them know the wipers are working again.

We drive almost 400km to Madrid through some of the most beautiful red, orange and yellow landscapes we've seen. We find our campground without having to drive through too much city traffic. Phew! We force ourselves to walk to the nearest supermarket and do a shop to refill the cupboards. That done we are able to sit down to a late lunch and chill out for the afternoon. Eventually around dinner time we figure out where the nearest metro is and make our way across town to Bego's apartment.

We turn up on her doorstep and are greeted with a friendly Hola, a couple of kisses and a glass of red wine. We have a good catchup on what she's been up to since moving back to Madrid from London and what we've been up to since she left the flat. Then it's out into town for some bar hopping and tapa tasting.

We start off with a bar that someone recommended to Bego for the great gambis (shrimps). We order some to share and a drink. I'm not really much for seafood but give it a go and they're actually not bad! Though Bego reckons her mum could do better hands down! So we finish our drinks and move onto another wee place, Victor's favourite. Bego orders tapas for the three of us to share and more drinks. How do the Spanish get up for work every morning!? We have peppers filled with a bechamel sauce and some type of fish. This is followed by 'broken eggs' - poached eggs stirred into a plate of chunky potato chips. Then there's a dish of marinated pork strips on top of more potatoes. Once we've finished that off, we dilly dally over whether to order desert. Bego tells us they do a mean cheesecake, so we end up getting some of that and a dish of traditional Spanish pudding which is a kind of custard with a vanilla biscuit and cinnamon sprinkled over top. Both are delicious. In fact all our dishes have been and its been fun catching up with our old flattie. Telling us where we should go tomorrow when we're sightseeing, Bego puts us on the right tube home and we say our goodbyes until next time.

The following day we head into town but we're a bit lacklustre. We make tehe most of the free internet at the information centre and find a campsite for the next day. We mooch about for a bit seeing a few plazas and the Madrid version of Buckingham palace. We head to Plaza Sol meaning Sun, where all the distances in Madrid are measured from. Then we've pretty much had enough so head home to Betty.

Chilled out Valencia

Following our chilled out beach day in Sitges, we head down the coast to Valencia. We fail to find the campground we intended to stay at, and then not liking the one we pulled into first, we eventually settle into the campground next door, minutes from the beach. We do another Chinese laundry load of washing and it is here that 'wiper-gate' surfaces.

Ryan sets to, trying to fix the wipers, not really knowing what the problem is to start with. An hour later the dashboard surrounding the steering wheel has been stripped. There are wires everywhere. The wipers still don't go and now our indicators don't either. Neither do our light for that matter. I'm practising my hand signals and digging out torches. Ryan is in a dark mood.

Eventually we end up back at square one. The lights go again and so do the indicators. The wipers do not.

We resort to texting home to NZ for some mechanical help and suggestions. To cool down we have a bit of a walk along the beach and through the small town we were in.

We get the bus into Valencia early the next morning, seeing some ladies of the night on our way in. Over here, they're not really ladies of the night. In Spain and Italy (the only two places we've seen them - cos they work the roadsides either at motorway entries and exits or roundabouts) they seem to work all hours of the day. In Valencia we pass them at about 9am on Sunday morning for goodness sake!

We jump off the bus at the arts and science precinct. The complex of buildings is fabulous and seems to have been inspired by Sydney's Opera House. From there we walk through a park with a difference. Valencia is a pretty dry place, every Thursday there's a water court in town. I'm not sure when the river running through the town dried up or changed course, but its gone now. So the city has done something rather ingenious, they've turned the river bed into a park, its brilliant.

We head through the eerily quiet streets wondering where everyone is, until we figure out what day it is. Sunday. We find the America's Cup port and have a poke around but the place is pretty dead. The team bases are all shut off from the waterfront so we can't see much of the Team NZ base. We're having a poke around the back of the building, posing in front of the VIP entrance, when Ryan notices that the back gates are open so we can get right into the yard of the base. There's a bit of gear in there, including Black Magic II, which we're taking pictures of when a car comes in through the gates and parks in front of the building. We assume that he's Spanish and is just doing security or something inside the building. He starts to head over to us, and then we're not sure if we're about to be in big trouble or not for coming in the gates.

Kiwi? He asks. Yup, we're just being nosy. We reply. No worries he says and comes over for a chat. Turns out the team is still racing, as are about 10 of the cup teams, in European regattas. Also turns out that we won 4 of the 5 regattas this summer. The team has gone home, but there are a few guys about, packing up the boat to send it home. The guy we got chatting to is head of maintenance, supplies, that sort of thing. He reckons if the scrap between two billionaires ever comes out of court, the next cup wont be raced in Valencia again, so the team bases will be scrapped and apartments will go up in their place, much like the viaduct in Auckland. He points us in the direction of pit lane on the F1 track which races around the port and we're off to see some more racing tracks and ripple strips. Exciting stuff, though more for the other half than me!

After the track we go through the small but good American Cup museum in the port. I go a bit proud seeing the footage of us wresting the cup off the yanks in 1995 and defending it in 2000. I got a bit homesick at seeing footage of home with the beautiful Hauraki Gulf and the iconic Rangitoto Island.

We catch a tram into town and head to the bull ring to see if there are any bullfights on today seeing as its Sunday. We're out of luck, there's no fighting because there's a rodeo on tonight. We wander a bit and end up asking for directions. The man we ask happens to the world's most friendly and helpful man, marking on our map other little things we should see, and telling us what's good and what's not in the old town. Eventually he sends us on our way and we head to the cathedral where the Holy Grail is kept.

We come across a massive crowd on some streets in the old town and Ryan heads in amongst it to see what the hubbub is about. Soccer cards. They're all going absolutely mad for soccer cards on sale.

We head out of the centre of town, back towards the arts and science area where we jumped off the bus. A TV screen in a small neighbourhood bar catches Ryan's eye, it's playing the F1 Singapore race. We head in and pull up at a pew at the bar. We manage to get ourselves a wine and beer through hand gestures and slide each other a 'can you believe how cheap that is?!' look when it costs like €2.30. Total!

We watch Lewis Hamilton win the race and then carry on walking to the bus. After a few false starts with finding the right bus stop we find the right bus stop and sit and twiddle our fingers waiting for the bus. Eventually it comes and we pass the ladies of the night again before getting back to camp.

It rains through the night and we toss and turn, hoping it stops before we have to drive with no wipers tomorrow...

Hola Spain!

BACK TO BARCELONA

An uneventful drive from Fontvielle, Arles to the Spanish border has some excitement injected into it when we're beckoned aside at the border. We greet the guard with a cheery Hello and then we are gabbled at in Spanish. When she stops garbling we are staring blankly and mumble English? (Was our un-Spanish sounding Hello and the big arse GB sticker on our number plate not a dead giveaway that we less than likely to be fluent in Spanish??) More Spanish and then something about where are we going? Barcelona. More Spanish, some of which may have been her rattling off place names of typical destinations, but none of them sound like the places we are going. How long are we going to be here, where are we going? Barcelona, Valencia, Madrid, San Sebastian, two weeks. (Some omissions, but it seemed easier than telling her all the places we intended to see and that we'd be here 3 or 4 weeks!).

She gives up and waves us on. We gripe for a bit after that about people who are in jobs where clearly they should be able to speak more than one language and can't (or won't) and also people who can't speak the language who do, and visa versa, but who insist on speaking their language at you. Like the more they talk at you, then maybe you will suddenly understand every word they have said and will reply fluently in their native language. Obviously where we struck this type of behaviour the most was in Italy, but generally on our trip, where there has been a language barrier, between our good will and the good will and helpfulness of the other person we have been able to get across with much slow talking and gesturing that we would like six French macaroons, one of each colour thanks, or that we would like one wine and a beer, or can we catch a train to the village near the campground from this station and what platform would it be from.

Its on the road to Barcelona that we strike a bit of a problem. This problem has come to be called 'wiper-gate'. Ryan tries to wash our dirty front window screen and the wipers refuse to move. He mucks around with the wiper/water lever for ages and eventually we come to the conclusion that he's somehow buggered it. Hmm, could be a problem, lets hope it doesn't rain anytime soon...

Further down the road we arrive into Barcelona and with trusty Ruth's help we cut through the maze of motorways from the north side of the city to the south side. We follow our noses trying to remember what we can from being here last year with Cat and Aaron. We get ourselves on the coastal highway to go back to the same campground and arrive without any problems. We park Betty up on the same site that the Don was parked in last year, Ryan cuts the engine and he's off, at a run through the camp to the wide sandy beach and into the waves!

After some body surfing we have a late lunch and then head into the city. We go to the Sagrada Familia, to see if anything has changed from 14 months ago. Then we head to Las Ramblas and have a poke in the massive food market, oogling the masses of Jamon, hanging in giant legs (hooves still attached!) above butcher displays, the fresh fruit, the vege, the cheese of all shapes and sizes and so much more. We pick up some bread and sangria for dinner and head back onto the street. We step straight out into a parade of some sort, at least we think its a parade and not a demonstration. There are a few weird folk about, dressed up and with fire torches. I think maybe they're devil worshippers or something that going to get a bit of a reaction, as there are a few policemen about.

But it turns out to be a parade, starting with a band all dressed, not exactly in uniform, but all in black and red clothes. Most look like they've had a bit of a run in with their grandfather's fishing tackle box. It was easy to think that it was something odder than a parade. Next came some folk in a variety of costumes, brandishing fire torches. Giant people came down the street next followed by some animals (people dressed as animals, not the real thing!). More giant figurines bought up the rear. We try and find out what the parade is celebrating, but it gets lots in translation.

We head back to camp and have a suitably late dinner (we're in Spain now, dinner before 9pm is early!)

THE BLACK VIRGIN IN THE MOUNTAINS OF MONTSERRAT

The next day we get a train from Barcelona an hour away into the mountains of Montserrat. From where the train drops us off, we jump on a rack railway to get higher into the mountains. The rack railway leaves us in the heart of Montserrat from where it's possible to get a further two funicular's on an almost vertical trip, higher into the mountains again. Never let it be said that it's easy to get there!

We spend a bit of time walking the main street of Montserrat, taking in the view over the valley below and the marvellous mountains above us with their weird rock formations, kind of similar to Cappadocia in Turkey. We sample sheep and goat cheese being sold at a small market by local farmers. They also have a tempting spread of jams and honey with the honeycomb still in it. We poke our noses into the local information centre which is selling more local products including some ridiculously cheap pottery. We have a spot of lunch perched on a wall in the village and then we head into the monastery.

Legend has it that St Luke sculpted a statue of the Virgin Mary with the tools from St Joseph's workshop using Jesus mother as the model and that St Peter bought her to Barcelona. Hidden by the Christians in a cave in the mountain, at the time of the Saracen invasion, it was miraculously found during the early days of the Reconquest, which gave rise to the idea of building a church and a monastery to house it. Whatever the legend, a magnificent statue of the Virgin Mary cradling baby Jesus, proven to be Romanic in origin and dating from the XII century was found in the mountains. The monastery was then built and is now over a thousand years old. We line up and file past the virgin before heading back out of the monastery.

We catch a funicular up the mountain and have a bit of a hike on various trails and learn some more legends of the mountains in an information centre. Eventually we've had enough so we funicular, rack railway and train back to Barcelona!

SOME SUN WORSHIPPING IN SITGES

After a bit of a sleep-in we catch the bus down to the town of Castelldefels and from there the train a couple of stops along the coast to one of the best towns and beaches on the coast del Garraf - Sitges. To be honest we pretty much went straight from the train to the beach so I can't vouch much for the town but it looked plenty nice. The beach was pretty mint though; it was sandy and had some decent waves for me to splash about in, and for Ryan to ride. On this side of the world you learn not to take it for granted that a beach will be sandy.

Pretty much from thereon in we did nothing but swim and suntan all day. Eventually suitably relaxed and beached out, we headed back to camp, stopping only for some more fresh baguette and cold coronas. Ah bliss.