Blog 2.7 - Not Moving Far

Monday 1st May 2023

May Day. Labour Day. Whatever it's called here.

I'm calling this 'Not Moving Far' as we, quite literally, aren't moving around much. We just happen to really like this neck of the woods, and until the other day, when we crossed into Spanish Catalunya, we had absolutely no idea that we would.

It was quite busy on the aire here at Viladrau until fairly late in the day, when most vans cleared off. I assume most of them were just here for a holiday day out. Parked with a nice view, with tables out, eating lunch and nattering. I don't blame them as it's a super spot.

By late afternoon, what had been a near-full aire on our arrival was now nearly empty - and two of the few remainers were furriners like us.

We didn't move. Just sat here, had lunch, attempted to feed Ramon the Robin (he came very close to my outstretched hand, but not quite), listened to the cuckoo somewhere above us in the trees on the hill, and to the distant rolling thunder, and relaxed.

Nice.

The cuckoo's 'song' though. It's not so much a refrain as a 'COME HERE, COME HERE, COME HERE' from your mum when dinner's ready. Mind you, it's him we can hear, calling hopefully for a mate. She's much quieter - and she hasn't actually piped up. Yet. Sometimes nature doesn't follow human norms eh? Ahem... Dons tin hat and retires.

Talking of 'norms'. Just what is it with the Orelly Men of the Girona rural area? I was just drifting off last night - this morning - and then, clatter, bang, they turned up to empty the bins at 1.05am. What?

Oh well, we'll just have to get used to it I guess.

Tuesday

A pleasant morning for a stroll into the village, and then maybe a walk up the hill to the 'antiquity' marked on the map, whatever it turns out to be. It's wall-to-wall sunshine out there, as forecast by Aunty, so we ought to make the most of it. It's funny how we quickly become acclimatised isn't it? It doesn't seem five minutes since we were shivering in Germany. We both remarked yesterday evening how silly it seemed that we were both slipping on hoodies as the temperature in the van plummeted to twenty degrees. Hah.

I guess the tolerance and adjustment to variance in temperature explains how people can comfortably survive in the frigid regions of the world.

Like Newcastle upon Tyne.

Just before we set off up the steep hill to explore the village we were engaged in conversation by one of the other 'furriners'; a couple from not too far from our home. As it happens, they'd had a very similar experience, and trip, to us, sacking-off Germany due to the weather and heading over the Pyrenees.

Great minds, they say.

It sounds as if they have similar likes to us when it comes to towns, villages, and aires, having also spent time at Caldes de Malavella, but leaving just before the festival. They were off towards the nearby town of Vic this morning, which is a place we'd also earmarked as a possible ourselves.

We may meet again!

That slog up the hill into Viladrau was well worth it.

It's an extremely pleasant place with a lovely open, quite large, square, lined with cafés, bars, small shops and more seating than you could shake a plate of tapas at.

We took coffee at one bar, shook (well ate) plates of tapas at another, and bought a few supplies - beers, milk, bread, chocolate and so on, at the tiny Supermarket.

This was 50 Euros all together. Nothing in the scheme of things, especially when you consider the paltry charge for staying here.

I've said it before; that's the way to do it. Wake up UK. Bring trade to your failing, struggling towns; don't turn it away with petty regulations, height barriers, and extortionate camping fees.

Climbs down from very high soapbox.

Wednesday

Yep. Still here. We liked it so much and the weather is currently so kind it seemed a shame not to have another night. We seldom linger more than two nights so this is almost unprecedented. We will certainly have to shake ourselves out of this torpor tomorrow though, so I guess we (Admin) ought to start planning.

An entirely agreeable home-made lunch now tucked away in the sun outside the van, and I'm trying to shake myself enough to don walking boots for a tab up into the hills beyond. What do they say about willing mind and weak flesh? My flesh is losing the battle here as it's just too relaxing where we are.

Speaking of the hills above us, Carlos the Cuckoo (Carlos the Cackle?) has spent a couple of solid days calling and I guess hoping, forlornly, for a response from the fairer sex. But then, she, I didn't catch her name, finally chimed in this morning.

'O-ver-here, o-ver-here, o-ver-here'.

It's funny. He just went quiet, for ages, until she once again gave up and he eventually kicked off once more.

Unrequited for ever? Daft birds.

The Orelly Men* are back, this time with their noise-machines. One has a brap brap brap strimmer-thing, and the other has an even louder grass-blower and a brap brap brap strimmer-thing. I guess he's the ranking hi-vis man.

It's just like being in Hollycroft Park...

Might have to go for that walk after all!

We went for that walk.

There's a hiking trail that passes just below the aire, which winds around the hill roughly following the small stream.

It's very pleasant, and cooler, and quieter, and is totally impossible to follow on Google Maps, unsurprisingly, so we went there - wherever there is and turned round after about an hour and followed it back.

By which time the Orelly Men had packed-up and gone.

Job done!

Thursday

And... the Orelly Men came back.

At 12.25am.

To empty the bins.

I don't think I'll get my head round it

Oh well, all good things come to an end, and it's time to move on.

We've loved it here and have agreed that we may well return (certainly if we find ourselves in the same area again) but next time we'll be better prepared with maps and compass.

I have a compass btw, but being a plonker, left it in the van yesterday...

Is Vic there?

Sorry; another song reference.

Vic is a compact city a few miles up the road. It, unsurprisingly, has an aire, on its outskirts overlooking a green, plane-tree wooded area and below that sports facilities including the local football and rugby clubs.

Rugby club and the distant Pyrenees just visible - if you squint a bit.

Being somewhat raised the views go on forever, well, until they terminate at the Pyrenees some miles north.

It's a nice spot, and much used by cyclists, runners, and primary school-age kids on nature rambles. All of them very well behaved and respectful too. I'm not sure it would be the same in the UK. Just my take based on nearly 70 years experience of the place!

Cheap too, at five Euro per 24 hours, but slightly more than we've paid lately - and electric is extra, not that we need it with our full battery and full sun keeping it that way.

The city, following a fair walk, was well worth it. There's so much to see including a huge central

square, sumptuous architecture everywhere, a Roman temple, and loads of bars and cafés.

We availed ourselves of one of the latter, a most unprepossessing kind of place called l'estudient, and were rewarded with a superb set-menu three-course lunch all for €12 each. Can't knock it.

Following that I needed a lie-down, but we contented ourselves with some more foot-slogging to marvel at the multifarious built masterpieces - and some super street art to go with them.

Another one to visit should you get the chance.

Friday

The night passed peacefully enough, just punctuated by what I took to be the (unusual) hoot of some kind of owl in the Plane trees around us, although I have never heard it before, so who knows?

Today is a lazy one, sat by the van mostly. We did take a walk up to the local Chinese bazaar (an institution in Valencia, but the first we'd noticed in Catalunya) for a couple of things we needed. However, on arrival it was closed for lunch so we had to take the difficult decision and a further few steps to visit a café we'd spotted yesterday, for coffee and cakes. It's tough, but someone has to do it. We'd had these cakes before, and they were the best we'd had in Spain. Soft, doughy, sweet circular swirls, and filled with custard. Delicious, but I have absolutely no idea what they're called - and not being Gen Z (or whatever) I didn't photograph them.

No, they're definitely nothing like Pastéis de Natas.

Oh well.

That little lot tucked away we headed back to the shop which had now opened and bought the couple of things we needed, together with a bag-full of things we had no idea we needed.

Those places get you like that!

That's our second night here coming up now, and as the sun drifts lower we can still see the Pyrennees in the north. The weather really has been kind. We'll probably cross the range again in a few days time as we head back into France, but in the meantime we'll set sights on the coast again, moving that way tomorrow, but maybe just a tad inland until the weekend is over. It seems that every local and his dog is making a break for it this weekend, with twenty-two vans currently set up here. Yesterday there were just three!

Heaven knows what the coast will be like, judging by that, so we'll give it a (near) miss until Monday and hope for the best.

Saturday

An early start, by our standards at least, saw us fully serviced and back on the road by about 9.30am.

This was deemed necessary as Admin's choice of our next park-up was the small town of Breda, quite near the coast. No, not too far, but the chosen berth apparently had space for only three vans, so we (well, I) felt it imperative to descend on the place early to give ourselves the best chance of a spot.

As it happened, only one place was occupied, and the third place remains vacant as I type at 5pm! Ah well; you can never tell, and I was judging by yesterday's influx at Vic.

The aire is approached by a couple of roads which can only be described as stress-inducing: tight building- and street furniture-lined-streets and some acute turns. And not helped one bit by a badly-parked van that there was absolutely no way past. I was about to start applying horn decibels to the proceedings when the driver appeared and moved it somewhat out of the way. It was still one of those breathe-in moments though.

Still, we made it, and it's free!

Having settled in we walked the hundred metres or so into the town centre in search of an early lunch. Tapas again, washed down by cold beers, under the warm sun. Lovely.

Repast past, and a few steps further for some supplies from the local supermarket, and we wandered back to the van for more cold drinks, lovely custardy doughnuts, and - well - nothing much really.

It's just too warm to do much else!

Mileage so far: 2005