Sea, sun and Jamon Serrano: Tarragona and Barcelona

Tarragona: 09/07/17-18/07/16

After a few days of chaos in Pamplona and a 5 hour bus journey (where nobody in the station had the faintest idea of which bus went where and at what time), we arrived in the small seaside town of Tarragona. Fresh air, less tourists, blue skies and blue seas, oh yes and the heat again, the unrelenting heat. When you're accustomed to being satisfied with a summer if the thermometer reaches 26 degrees on a couple of occasions, then the constant 37+ heat that surrounded us in Tarragona came as a surprise.

Our AirBnB host met us at the coach station and walked us to his place. It was a simple room in a simple apartment, with him, his parents and a couple of other AirBNB'ers. In true Sarah and Bob fashion the first thing we did was to have a nap. By this point I was running on about 9 hours sleep across the span of two days and Sarah wasn't much better.
After dragging ourselves out of bed when finally went for an explore around our new home and quickly discovered that this town that neither of us had previously heard of, a place we chose to visit purely because there happened to be cheap accommodation was stunning beautiful.

The main street that ran from the town centre to the seafront was lined on either side by tapas bars and cafes; their seats were protected by the beating sun with awnings spraying a cooling mist down on their customers and in the shade of the trees we slowly wandering up toward the end getting ever more excited by the fact that every establishment seemed to serve "Gin Tonics". The road ended with a magnificent view of a the beach and the sea below, I don't think I'd ever seen so blue.

Also Maxibons and Lemon Fanta, 2 of our favourite holiday treats. By the end of our time in Spain we could tell fairly accurately how expensive a city or a restaurant was purely based on the price of Maxibons. There was a reason we didn't lose any weight in Spain, and this was on of them.

Our dinners for most of the week consisted of salad (admittedly a new for me) with cheese, pate and baguettes, you know, to balance out the healthiness of the salad. Just because we couldn't afford to eat out at the restaurants every night didn't mean we couldn't eat well....this was another reason we didn't lose any weight.

Tarragona had many things to offer, another beautiful old town was one of them. Unlike Pamplona however, we could slowly wander around this area in peace and truly take in the atmosphere. Despite so many European cities having similar old towns with narrow, cobbled streets and wonky buildings it's difficult not to fall in love with every one of them. With this old town came a lot of history as well, and it turned out that Tarragona had once been a Roman town, consequently there was amphitheatre on the coast, a circus in the town and ruins of a forum and a fort too, as well as couple of very nice museums too. Of course I was very happy with this and Sarah obligingly followed me round all the ancient sites. Even if we didn't learn much it was an excellent way to hide from the heat. The museum aircon really was a very good at keeping us  the exhibits nice and cold.

Beyond these little streets full of hidden gems Tarragona was also home a few parks and green spaces. Areas we took advantage of in order to start playing Chess. Over the next couple of months we probably played more chess with our little travel magnetic set than most people will play in a life time. Sarah hadn't really never played before so I happy taught her and thrashed her. An excellent way to kill a few relaxing hours in the sun.

With the promise of clear - and mud free - water we used our GoPro for the first time underwater. The footage I recorded is unimportant because it's just me flopping around in the sea trying to look good but the Mediterranean very much delivered on its promise. The water was bright blue on top, crystal clear underneath and as warm as the bath. With the lack of tide which would usually threaten to dragged all our stuff out to sea if we weren't careful, we parked our towels by the water's edge and spent whole days taking turns swimming, sunbathing and playing more chess.

I have to say never in my life would I have thought that I would be wanting to shower as frequently as I did. With my eczema it means at home I'm resigned to having cold showers (lukewarm if I'm feeling brave) which in England and Wales usually isn't much fun, but in the high 30 degree heat, having 3 or 4 icy cold showers a day was an absolute pleasure. And in fact within about a week of being in Spain my skin had pretty much healed and has been virtually perfect since (so that's the last time I'll mention it).

We whiled away the week eating unhealthy, wandering aimless around the town, jumping from airconned shop to airconned shop, drinking cheap wine, lying in the sun, playing chess and having an incredible time. Once again however we had fallen into the same trapped that we had in Barcelona. Our time in Tarragona was coming to an end (already having extended our initial stay twice). We knew our next stop was Barcelona and we knew how we were getting there. Badly however we had no clue as to where we would be staying and so we once again wasted an entire day looking for one. It's not the slightest bit surprising that finding a cheap place to stay in Barcelona, in the middle of summer, on a weekend at last minute would be difficult but we were enjoying Tarragona too much to care, that was until it really needed to be done..."How Not To Travel". Eventually we found a reasonably priced and reasonably located room in Barcelona, and this much joy very quickly returned to relaxing. Relaxing on the beach, in the sea, in the town, in the parks. You name it we relaxed there.

Soaking up the sun

I could write about how much I enjoy this little town for far longer than I already have but I shouldn't so I shan't.
Onto to:

Barcelona: 18/07/16-20/07/16

We only had a couple of days in Barcelona before our next destination - which I will let Sarah tell you about - and so we made the most of it. On the first day after arriving from Tarragona on the coach, we just went for a little walk after dropping off our bags at the BnB. This little walk turned into a 5km round walk in our flip flops with a quick stop off at La Sagrada Familia which after admiring it for a bit and taking a few photos (with our new selfie stick which we bought unashamedly) we swiftly moved on away from the crowd of tourists all doing exactly the same thing. In doing so we incidentally found a cafe serving slices of Jamon Iberico/Serrano and beers for cheap. Jamon was something we both very quickly fell in love with and was yet another reason we lost no weight in Spain. IT'S JUST SO GOOD!

The next day we walked and metro-d around Barcelona, visiting Las Ramblas, the Hard Rock (the first of many to come), counting the number of Corte Ingles' we came across (answer, there were many), walked around the old Olympic park, through another park, failed to get into a third park (Guell, which we managed to do at a later date) and generally knackered ourselves out by seeing as much as we could in as little time as possible.

Before and even after going to Barcelona everyone we'd talked to about the city, locals and tourists alike, all seemed to warn us about the city and how we had to be careful with our bags and belongings due to the number of pickpockets but fortunately for us we didn't see or experience this at all. It's strange to enter a city with that kind of suspicion in your mind; it makes you end up looking at everybody like they have ulterior motives. Perhaps we escaped unscathed because we looked too scruffy and tired to be carrying anything around of any worth, which isn't actually too far from the truth but whatever the case the people we met were friendly and the things we saw were beautiful, if not expensive
After a few busy days of being tourists in this bustling metropolis which had been a different change of pace from our overly relaxed week in Tarragona it was time to move on.

Admiring the view

Taking a look back through our travels so far we seem to have continued this trend of busy period, relaxed period, busy period, relaxed period. At first it arose purely by chance and the context of the settings in which we found ourselves i.e starting in Pamplona during the craziness of San Fermin before moving to a quiet seaside town of Tarragona and finding ourselves thereafter in a huge city with lots do to and only for a short amount of time to see as much as we could. But as time has progressed we have to some extent figured this into our planning.

If you're on holiday for 1 or 2 weeks you'll spend everyday doing as much as possible because you know at the end of it you'll return home and be annoyed if there was anything you missed. But when travelling for any longer than that, as we have found, this kind of hyperactivity simply isn't feasible, or at least it isn't for us. We don't have the energy and stamina to see everything in every place we visit; not the energy nor the time or money. Consequently we have had to get comfortable with 2 things.

Firstly that we cannot see everything; I very much hated the idea about missing out on things and so arriving to a new town and having a look at Tripadvisor and Lonely Planet etc it becomes hard not to get absorbed into the world of tick-list and "must-see" tourism where everything that is mildly interesting in the area is listed and rated usually with one or two sites that sit above the rest. The result is that if you don't end up visiting all of the 100s of top rated things to see/do it becomes very easy to feel like you've missed out and wasted your time. It's a sad frame of mind to be in -especially because we've discovered that few things in this world are truly unique and if you miss out on something you'll likely find a similar equivalent elsewhere - but it was nevertheless something I had to try hard to overcome during our first months travelling.

Secondly and similarly to this point, we had to become comfortable with relaxing and not doing the touristy stuff, i.e, being in a place with loads of things to do and be happy doing none of it. Again if you were on holiday for a week but had days where you didn't leave the room or went to the cinema instead of exploring the area it would be wasting time because you can do those things at home but with travelling full time, where although we don't have stressful jobs we also don't designated weekend to relax in either. This means we have to decide ourselves when to have days to sit down and do nothing but without feeling guilty.

To relate this back to the original point, we have started taking into consideration that if we visit a city where we know we'll be busy we will (if possible) look for the next destination to be a little less demanding and time consuming to allow more guilt free relaxation.

(I'm in no way complaining about the hard life we lead travelling, I just wanted to point out something I hadn't considered might be an issue before I left).

Onto Castellar...

Until next time
      Bob

Pamplona: Bull runs and sangria

Pamplona - 6th - 9th of July 2016

I did not think it was possible to suffer a culture shock when visiting a country you have visited in the past. I, however, was very wrong...

As we neared Pamplona Lewie, our host and tour guide, told us that he was in the centre of the old town with his friends where the celebrations for San Fermin were kicking off. He was unable to escape to meet us so we headed off in search of him. Before we left the UK Lewie had told us to buy white tops and trousers in preparation for San Fermin, because apparently everyone dressed like that. Me being the frugal, tight person I am, refused to spend money on white trousers I'd only wear once, thinking that it'd end up like the halloween party where everyone promises to dress up but no one actually does. Nope, everyone actually does dress up in San Fermin. I have never seen such wide spread commitment to a dress code. Literally an immeasurable amount of white tops and trousers.

The closer we got to old town, the higher the concentration of people, until in the centre, without exaggeration, we were the only people not dressed in white. It was like accidentally stumbling into the middle of a city-wide cult. Thousands of people were crammed into the tiny streets, and with sleep in our eyes and a dwindling phone battery, we had to find one single person in the heart of it.

Red and white everywhere!

Up until this point I have failed to mention the heat. Coming from the cool English summer and having spent a day and night in a nice airconned airport, we were fulled clothed in thick jumpers, tops and black leggings (well, Sarah). Stepping out into the midday, midsummer Spanish heat felt like we were being punched by th
e sun into the pavement (huge bags and all). To add to the chaos, the opening day of San Fermin also included a large amount of Sangria being thrown around. Fortunately we had missed the worst of the celebration so left unscathed, and un-red; I think if we had had been hit at this point in time, we would have sat down, refused to move, and had a little cry out of pure exhaustion.

Being a man of his word, once we'd neared the centre, Lewie managed to find us and after a very brief reunion, as well as one can reunited in the midst of a crowd, he directed us back through the old town, back past the coach station, to his apartment. What followed next was some pure unadulterated napping, something we both very much needed. Lewie graciously left us to it and rejoin his friends.

5 hours on and L returned to find us just about emerging, so feeling a little more human, being more appropriate dressed and free from our burdensome bags, we ventured back into town, (this was the 3rd time that day for L so cheers man). The crowds were still unfathomably big; from one side of the old town to the other there was never a break in people. Despite the constant need to dodge people, alcohol and alcohol filled people, we were able to get a pretty comprehensive tour of the area. Eventually we ran into some of L's colleagues with whom we sat and drank some Sangria. They were all really friendly, lovely people with a huge amount of energy which is something we sadly lacked at that point in time. We sat, talked, drank and relaxed and watched the people in white walk by.

Our exciting, extraordinary and entire exhausting first day of travelling ended with one of the best fireworks displays I've ever seen. All the roads surrounding the centre of citadel from which the firework were being released were closed and every bit of road, pavement and grass was occupied by silent onlookers as the incredible display just kept happening, we of course found ourselves a little gap, sat down and joined them. (Much to my delight it turned out that this display happened every night during the week of San Fermin.)


The next few day was fairly similar; meeting friends and friends, exploring and touring the absolutely beautiful narrow streets of the old town, eating excellent local food and of course drinking lots of Sangria and beer. This all happened, I am happy to say, following a very long and much needed lie in, pastries for breakfast and a picnic in the park; no better way to start the day. The evening of that day we headed to a friend's apartment for poker, more alcohol and pizza, followed once more with the fireworks. A perfect evening.

Of course San Fermin being famous for the running of the bulls, it meant that we had to see a bull run. Much to my surprise, like the fireworks, the bulls ran every morning during the week of the festival, I always figured it was just the once. Sadly for us the runs happen early morning so in order to get a decent place to sit an watch, it meant setting our alarms for 5am. Ouch.
Sarah hadn't really gotten to sleep the night before so she stayed in bed whilst Lewie and I got dressed and left once more of the old town. Finally finding somehow to stand along the track at 6:30 it was only a matter of waiting until 8am with 0 food and about as much sleep to see the run. Luckily some friendly people helped us to secure a place on the bull run fence, the best seat in the house and the only place guaranteed to give a half decent view. Whilst we waited uncomfortably perched atop a narrow wooden fence it was fun to watch all the people beginning to sober up from their night of drinking (and probably some amount of debauchery).

Lewie & Bob's early morning bull run faces

To see so many people running down such a tight, narrow strip of land at such speed makes for a very cool sight. Seeing people nearly getting skewered was pretty exciting too. Cruel and crazy yes, but exciting nevertheless. Later on that day it was confirmed that 5 or 6 people ended up injured but fortunately none that seriously. 6 minutes later it was all over. Worth it? Yes. Would I see it again? Probably not, I prefer my sleep.
After heading back and finding Sarah still asleep, it dawned on me that we had up until this point neglected to make any decisions for our future. At this time the next day, with Lewie due to leave in the morning for home, we would find ourselves homeless if we didn't make some sort of decision and quickly.

We felt we'd sufficiently experienced San Fermin, and we were too cheap to pay the inflated festival priced accommodation so we were happy to move on from Pamplona. But to where? After A LOT of searching, googling, debating we stumbled across the promise of a cheap AirBnB in the small town of Tarragona, on the Mediterranean coast, a very exciting prospect for me since I had never swam in the Med before. We started planning in the morning but it wasn't until 5pm that we finally had booked the damn things, much to Lewie's relief. What was left of that day involved more games, drinks and good food.

Our first few days of travel were a definite whirlwind. I'm not sure we really accomplished so much but it felt like we never stopped moving. With the heat, the food, the sounds, the smells and the sheer amount of people dressed in white I never would have guessed I would experience anything close to a culture shock in Spain, I can happily say I was proved wrong. Our first stop was incredible, especially with thanks to our awesome host and guide Mr Clough, and it set us up perfectly for the following few months in Spain.

Next stop, Tarragona.

Until then,
Bob

Click me for a video of the bull run!

The Journey Began

Forewarning: Our apologies that the first half on this blog will be written in retrospect; we are nearing the supposed halfway point of our trip and realising quite how much we've already seeing and experienced it's beginning to dawn of us how much we are likely to forget if we don't start documenting things down. Fortunately being the proactive specimens that we are, we've been lugging a big leather bound dairy with us around the world in which we've jotted down notes from our trip so we don't have to rely 100% on our equally questionable memories. 

Unfortunately being the inactive slugs that we are, after our few months in Europe we became increasingly - well I don't want to say lazy, but well, lazy - at least in regards to updating the diary meaning that it's only complete up until our arrival in Sri Lanka in October. That does nevertheless leave a good couple of month of our journey filled with experiences from ranging from inane to incredible; so enjoy.

The first line of the journal written on the 5th "This is the first entry in this journal which I hope to keep relatively up to date over the next year or so. I imagine however due to the constraints of travelling and general laziness on my part I will probably fail to do us"....I guess I know myself quite well.

And so it begins...approx 32kg between us (most of it Sarah's...)

Background: Our world trip began with a summer in Spain. Spain, whose high tourist season runs throughout the summer in which prices increase everywhere. A great place for people on a budget right? Well we had a plan to beat this issue. We had arranged for ourselves a job teaching English in a summer school in Pamplona for 3 weeks at the end of July (with an optional extra week of teaching for one of us). The job was to pay well enough to cover our living costs with a bit left over to add a little extra to our savings. This way we could enjoy a month in the sun and our travel savings wouldn't decrease, before being tourists for the second month. Except not. Sadly a week before we flew we were informed that there weren't enough kids signed up for the school and consequently there would be no summer school. Bugger. We were then left in travelling around Spain for 2 months rather than 1 during the hottest and most expensive time of the year. 

The Brexit vote had come just before our departure as well meaning all of the Pounds which we had spent years saving up very, very suddenly became a worth a whole lot less. How about that for poor timing. 

Anyway....

It began: 5th of July 2016

Start as you mean to go on:

Pamplona was to be our first destination. It wasn't just the job that brought us here, but Señor Lewie Clough who as he had been teaching in the city for the past year (how do you think we got the job), was kind enough to offer us his place for a few nights. It also just so happened to be the week of San Fermin so frankly how could we refuse to visit.

But first we had to get to Pamplona and since we were doing everything as cheap as possible, for us this entailed getting a flight from London, to Madrid, to Bilbao and then a bus to Pamplona, you know, rather than a direct flight to Pamplona. So our first ever night of our year long round the world, we slept, or rather didn't sleep in Madrid airport...start as you mean to go.....

Bright lights of Madrid aiport

A six hour layover from midnight to 6am in an overly airconned airport terminal. The scene was like a strange alternate universe first world refugee camp; with all the businesses, shops, cafes in the airport closed, there were swathes of very weary and haggard travelers trapped in the terminal without purpose wandering around with glazed over eyes or looking for some half comfortable to rest. The lucky ones, those who had arrived the earliest, had spotted a Starbucks with the shuttered only partly closed and with the promise of sofas, cushions and power outlets they'd crept under the barrier. Every piece of padded (and unpadded) furniture had some knackered soul draped over it and every electrical socket had been claimed by the nearest traveller.

This was until at 3am the lights were switched on and in came the army of cleaning staff to prepare the place for the morning. For those who had sort shelter in Starbucks, us included, we were kicked out by a cleaning lady with the tired mannerism of someone who had done this many times before, probably on a nightly basis. Forced out of the warmth and the comfort of the coffee shop we resigned ourselves to sleeping on the hard, cold metal benches. Whichever scoundrel decided choose benches with solid, immovable armrests for the airport is an absolute bellend. After coming to terms with the impossibility of laying flat on these benches, we re-resigned ourselves to lying on the tiled fall under a table.


Sarah having been woken up by the cleaning staff in Starbucks was concerned she wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep again. Fortunately for her she was once more sound asleep within about a minute of voicing this particular concern. I was suffering so badly with my eczema that I wasn't able to bend or stretch my arms without letting slip a very unmanly weep. This in combination with the unnecessary cold temperature of the terminal and the hard floor, it's needless to say I did not sleep at all that night. I can now happily say however that since travelling my eczema which has always plagued me at home has completely disappeared (and it did within only a few weeks of travelling). I guess I will just have to travel all of my life. 

In spite of this terrible night, the rest of the journey from London to Pamplona was pleasant. It was nothing special but leaving Bilbao airport without needing going through customs or needing to show any proof of identification felt quite strange. It occurred me that I had never travelled on a domestic flight before (at least as far as I can remember). I was so used to the routine of getting off the plane, stopping to use the toilet, queueing up at immigration, having my passport checked then finding our luggage before leaving, that the complete lack of security on this flight threw me a bit, for a while afterwards I was half expecting someone to grab me by the shoulder and demand to see some ID.
In any case we got a bus to the coach station, catching a quick glimpse of the Guggenheim museum on the way, Sarah napped a bit more whilst we waited for the coach and again a bit more on the coach, and finally we arrived at Pamplona during the open ceremony for San Fermin. What an arrival that was.....

Until then,
                  Bob