Alicante, Spain

And so we bid a not-especially-fond farewell to The Donald. I was in the USA when he got elected, back in 2016. Specifically I was in Cincinnati, although my thoughts from that time - which I stand by - are better summarised in a previous blog from Pittsburgh. 

Now that the Trumpozoic Era is over, we can at least take comfort in the thought that he leaves office a much poorer man than when he entered it, which is the exact opposite of what most other recent Western leaders have done. Though of course Trump was probably never quite as rich, behind all the smoke-and-mirrors of financial engineering and inflated valuations, as he wanted us all to believe. Walking around the marina in Alicante and renewing my little game of Spot The Yacht, I've been musing on the foibles of billionaires and their favoured status symbols. Mega-yachts are impressive, but it's not until you see one looming like Godzilla behind a bobbling gaggle of smaller yachts that you understand why size really matters. Mine's Bigger Than Yours. I Am Considerably Richer Than Yow. The mega-yacht currently harboured in Alicante is called Lady Moura and it used to be the 9th biggest in the world but now it barely scrapes into the top 30. Oh, the ignominy.

The third Covid wave is well under way in Alicante and so all the bars and cafes and restaurants are closed. As such, I'm afraid there is no Edd vs Food this week. Fortunately I got my fair portion of Alicante nightlife during my last visit in 2019. And even when everything's closed, it's still a perfectly pleasant place to go for a stroll along the seafront or a hike in the hills. My legs have had plenty of exercise this time round, in a marked contrast to that previous visit, when it was mainly my elbow taking the strain.

Vaccinations are starting to happen in Spain, albeit not at anything like the pace back in Blighty. There's been a bit of a scandal involving several senior politicians and military officers getting themselves to the front of the queue for a jab despite none of them being remotely old enough or ill enough. Pretty shameful really. Of course, our own beloved Sovereign and her consort got the vaccine promptly, but the two of them have an average age of 96.5 so they're jolly well entitled to it. As for me, well, I'm still crossing my fingers that the UK government doesn't move to hotel-room quarantine. If they do, I'll just have to fly to Dublin, do my quarantine on Craggy Island (mind how you go!) and then sneak over the border to get a ferry home from Belfast. Simples.

Looking west to the city from the Santa Barbara castle

Looking west to the Santa Barbara castle from the Sierra Grossa

Looking east to the Sierra Grossa from the Santa Barbara castle

Beach, seen from the pier

Marina

Looking east to the Santa Barbara castle from the San Fernando castle

Slightly trippy street in the old town

Digs #1: 'Balcony and sea views' - technically true...

Digs #2: Further inland and slightly more upmarket.
Actual air conditioning, not just a manky ventilator.

Murcia, Spain

My memories of the places I visit are always affected by the prevailing weather conditions while I'm there. Even the dullest, drabbest cities seem nice in retrospect if those memories are wreathed in sunshine. On the other hand, there are places that I might have been able to love, if only it hadn't pissed down with rain the whole time I was there... 

Murcia is a prime example of such a place. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. In part it's my own fault for not bringing sensible shoes. I only have my trainers and my Converses, both of which, when they get wet, stay wet. The only solution is to wait until it stops raining and then go for another walk at a sufficiently brisk pace that my warmed-up feet dry the shoes out from the inside. And you can imagine what my socks smell like by the end of that process.

The best thing about Murcia is that, being a prominent university town, it has a good selection of second-hand bookshops from which I can get cheap things to read in both English and Spanish. Also the surrounding countryside is full of good hiking, when the sun shines. See pictures.

In this new post-Brexit era, I'm only allowed to stay in Spain for 90 days starting January 1st, and so my thoughts are slowly turning to home. I'll need to book a caravan or something in which to isolate after my arrival. Isolation holds no fears provided I can go out for long walks each day; however there is gloomy talk of the UK government forcing returnees to isolate in hotel rooms, without any prospect of fresh air or exercise, and that's something I just can't face under any circumstances. I'd rather go and sit things out in a random non-EU country, where I can isolate on arrival in the aforementioned caravan. Or tent. Or yurt. Or igloo. What a time to be alive.

River, bridge, cathedral

Plaza Santa Catalina

Hiking in the Sierra de la Pila regional park

As above

Cathedral, seen from the Plaza del Cardenal Belluga

Monteagudo castle, with statue of Christ.
I probably should have tried harder to get a less depressing photo.

Digs. With breakfast bar. I'd have preferred a proper dinner table, to be honest.
Also there was a dartboard, but no darts. What a tease.

Edd vs Food #100
Bit of an anticlimax for the century edition of EVF...
Home-made spag bol. Turkey/chicken mince. Bulked out with carrots and beans.
At some point in my life I may have to learn how to actually cook.

Cartagena, Spain

This is my 10th big backpacking trip. Up until today, the longest of those trips was the first one, way back in 2008. But I've been travelling in Spain nearly four months now, and as of today this trip is now my longest ever, with no end in sight yet. 

It wasn't meant to be this way. When I set off last September I thought I'd just have a brief meander around Spain for a couple of months, while this second-wave malarkey sorted itself out, and then go home in time for Christmas reunions with family, friends, Greggs, cask ales, and rain. But 2020 has not been the year of Things Going To Plan.

In past blogs I've mentioned the subtle distinction between travelling and tourism, and how I'm happy to admit that much of what I do on these trips is the latter and not the former. Right now it's neither. I'm just kind of...floating. There is nothing adventurous about this. I'm deep, deep inside my own personal comfort zone. But would I be camel-hitching around Outer Mongolia if it wasn't for Covid? Probably not, to be honest.

Naturally I'm not complaining. 2020 has been an awful year for loss of life, for elderly people deprived of the chance to make the most of their last months, and for teenagers who've had their education knocked sideways. For me it has just meant an enforced long holiday, a First World Problem if ever there was one.

Madrid is currently neck-deep in snow, as you may have noticed in the news, but there's none of that here on the south-east coast. The sky is blue and the sea breezes are only slightly chilly. The best thing about Cartagena is hiking in the hills that surround the harbour, enjoying the views (see photos) and savouring the aforementioned breezes. I could easily get used to this. Which is just as well really.

One of the world's great natural harbours.
Cartagena has been the key naval base of the western Mediterranean for millenia.
This photo is a panorama from Atalaya Castle, to the north-west.

Cartagena is basically a harbour rather than a beach resort, hence it's not really a tourist hotspot.
Here's the little bit of beach it does have: Cala Cortina, just around the corner to the south-east.

Roman theatre in the city centre

In the distance on the left is one of those billionaire plaything yachts. Helipad, etc.
I managed to make out the name on the hull: "Vibrant Curiosity". 
See details here, for those who take a prurient interest in such things...

View from the south-west, up near the Galeras castle

"Secure Borders, Secure Neighbourhoods". Because only foreigners commit crimes!
Vox are Spain's biggest far-right political party. Kind of like our BNP, but better-dressed.
Also with a steady vote share of about 15%, and 52 seats out of 350 in the national parliament.
Clearly both billboards are aiming at the same demographic.

Cartagena has a strong military tradition. Here is a statue of a submarine, seen from the rear.
From this angle I think it looks like the front of a bull!
No, I don't have anything better to do.

Another rented apartment just like all the rest.
Roomy, sunny, echo-ey. Sea views. Somewhat cold at this time of year.

Edd vs Food #99
Not much dining out to be had, what with the curfew and everything.
Home-made sandwiches as an occasional treat. Cheese savoury, and ham/chorizo/egg mayo.
I just wish I could get hold of some Heinz Salad Cream...or coleslaw...

Lorca, Spain

Happy New Year everyone. And happy new vaccine too. Hurrah for the boffins at Oxford & AstraZeneca. It's the beginning of the end of the beginning of the end, or something. Hopefully.

Despite its name, this town isn't connected with Lorca the poet, the one I mentioned in my Granada blog. It's just a nice sunny little place up in the mountains, a stop-off between Almería and the cities that lie ahead. Really I only came here in order to be able to make an witty comment about 'living la vida Lorca'. And I've done that now. I'll get me coat. 

Monte Calvario

The castle, from the east

Looking down and east to the city from Monte Calvario

Castle again, seen from the north-west

One more view of the castle...this time from my hotel room

Edd vs Food #98
Chicken madras at the Taj Mahal Tandoori.
As a true patriotic Englishman, I like to soothe my homesickness with a steaming hot Indian curry.
This one wasn't quite spicy enough to make me cry, but my nose did run a bit.