MEANDERS IN A TRANSIT VAN

 

My journey home was wonderful - with one exception.

 

I stayed a night in Valencia and busked twice there.

I found the wonderful old circular market, reminding me of Brixton Market, and some old balconied appartments nearby there, also a bit like where Piaf sang in Paris to earn breakfast coffee! - and I found the Sunday morning Rastro (pickpockets paradise!) and saw Flamenco and other folk dancing demos in the cathedral square.

 

The market bar at the round market Redonda is definitely a good place to breakfast or lunch on a Sunday morning.

I found the free parking across the old river causeway,- in which there are now parks and sports grounds and you can walk over the bridges into the city centre, and so I parked there for 24 hours, slept there and washed my pots in a nearby water font, on the broad garden causeway.

 

It's not far from the football ground and I was amused to see the 8 lane highway which normally has two central lanes devoted to parking, as well as the deep side spaces, reduced to only two lanes each side for traffic and four in the centre for parking! - just by people sorting this out themselves - it seemed to me.

Come 11.30 pm - match over - going home time, people didn't wait to get out if in an inner lane,- they just rolled and moved other cars to get out! People must leave their brakes off and maybe even doors open as some cars were moved at an angle, not just back and forward to extricate deeper embedded cars. All this being done, with help from several people, while the traffic tore by at the usual fantastic speed - once the lights changed. I didn't see any one's car damaged, and the last stragglers just looked around their abandoned cars and got in and drove off apparently content. It was very Spanish somehow, or maybe just Mediterranean?

I left Valencia after singing in the afternoon and then eating in another marvelous cafe near the Redonda - open

every day - and drove via Teruel.

 

Teruel is beautiful to drive into by night and I walked all around the old part and sussed it for busking another time. I was giddied looking down from the high bridges that span the gorge to the houses below. A must for more time in daylight. I moved on and then slept a night in Daroca from about 1 am.

 

In the morning, after a walk round the town I had coffee in my chosen spotted best cafe! - with a beautiful crispy, rich-flavoured, not too bleached or doughy 'spanish stick' from the bakery next door,- where the cafe sent me to choose my own breakfast snack!  I again found a little fountain in the gardens where the old men play bowls - to wash my face and hands.

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Onwards! - out via precipitous narrow twisting old town side streets! Then out in the country, I took a wrong turning off the 232/4 at Calatayud and to correct it, turned onto a B road running by a small river through Moros and Torrijo and crossed miles of fruit orchards in bloom on this B road, before picking up the road again to Soria and finally Burgos.

 

The scenery was lovely - a sunny early morning drive. Nothing on the roads, nobody striving to overtake this slow old van.

On this B road I also found a gorgeous spring bursting from the road side bank – (just past a deserted mill building!) - to wash the pots, tomatoes and my feet… (I hadn't wanted to do all that in the old men's bowling garden in Teruel!)… It was like a jacuzzi! Was it safe to drink from? I conversed with an old farmer on a bike, who had two tree trunks strapped either side of the bike! - cut from the nearby woods for two new beams for his barn (a bit like my recent repair job to the barrel vaulting in my Javea mews house I thought!) - He sent me to the village well, - over a tiny foot bridge - down a track - for "even better water" he said - kissing his lips " Muy Bueno"!

 

I pierced a plastic bag to use as a colander for washing the big Mediterranean tomatoes - bought green in Javea Market the previous Thursday - getting a bit dusty, arranged round the 10 litre 'Solan de Cabras' green glass water jar (now filled with Muscatel!) – but where I thought they would keep cooler and not sweat in a plastic bag.

The jacuzzi was so strong it bounced three of them out of my colander and under the road. "Oh! Oh! Oh! " I squeaked, putting down the rest as carefully and quickly as I could, and hopping off the stone steps and running across the road... I thought that was the end of them, but one by one they bobbed out and were retrieved - unbruised !! - me wading in the stream. I would recommend this diversion for tired drivers and passengers feet!

 

Burgos was wonderful. I arrived late in the afternoon and as I drove over the horrendously vicious railway lines in the town centre, the driver’s window jolted off the ratchet (already broken and botch welded I think by Alf and Hendo ) and crashed to the bottom of the door panel - never to be put-on-able again!!

Does this van have ANY springs I wonder? Driving round the old cobbled parts of cities is painfully noisy and shudders all my contents. (Are Leslie's Easter Eggs resting comfortably?...l keep checking them!) But I am sure the exhaust is going to get disconnected driving round these old cities.

 

I take off the handle with my screwdriver and unpeg the lining of the door to see if I can reposition the window. At least the glass isn’t broken! I No chance! I am totally confused by it. I had noticed a couple of little garages on entering Burgos city and as I return there – it’s obviously the 'garage quarter' !...I find some more at the back of the block.

 

I park outside the one where there is space. The guy who bustles out, I am not too keen on the vibe of... probably the boss, but he goes off and then I wander into the workshop and this lovely man comes and looks, tries it, and then sorts out just a stick to hold up the glass in place, saws it to wedge the glass perfectly upright and straps it with a plastic tightenable strap. Free! -  so I give him 500 pesetas for a beer or two. It's still like that! - All the way home!

 

I drive across the river round the town and get hopelessly entangled in the main plaza signed 'Parking.' It transpires it's too low for me, but I can’t translate meters to feet and inches for my van height and there's no way to back out – uphill and curving and wrong direction! - without moving two barricade things and enlisting someone's help to watch me turn round and drive out the wrong way!

 

Tired, but relived no police saw me and I didn't hit anything, I retire to the non-touristy side of the river and park by the Station and then walk off across the river and explore the old part of Burgos. l come back across the river to sleep in this quietish spot - behind a small apartment block, but not far from the 'ding dong' announcements of the Station!

 

Next day after making breakfast in the van, I again found free parking, albeit with difficulty, on the other side of the river, nearer to where I needed to be to sing... just along from the old cathedral - by gardens, not far from the river. If you ever go there and want to park - look on the map - roundabouts lead to this area, - and then I perambulate my gear to the lovely pedestrian streets to sing. One and a half hours morning and the same or more late afternoon, and snoozing on a bench in the sun after lunch in a real Spanish family cafe in a quiet back square. Burgos was so great - apart from the 'well' underground parking mishap and the cobblestone rattled broken window ratchet...

 

Well, ' MlRANDA DEL EBRO' sounds SO romantic, and having had success on river cities, and remembering a friend's fishing trip to the Ebro but way further south, I headed for that. Miranda means 'View', so ' View of the Ebro River'. I arrived late at night and parked - free - by the river. I walked around this stinking town. Never seen so much rubbish on every corner. The river stank. I couldn't find an old centre at all. Men on the street corners looked like New York Godfathers and it was the ONLY place I've ever been looked at nastily or felt at all vulnerable.

So even though it was very late, I drove the N1 to San Sebastian. I didn't like being pushed over the bendy mountains by vast lorries thundering behind, pushing me round the bends faster than I wanted to go - if I'd let them. This is the first time I have driven this route over the Pyrenees and it’s SO Industrial. Now I can see what's in the EBRO and why catfish get so big… Deformed! - Petrochemically hormone fucked! – from eating all that rubbish. I think they are mutant from the chemical industries along the route and all the town's rubbish in Miranda del Ebro too!

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If you ever get the chance, drive across The Pyrenees via the Sainte Jean Pied de Port, and Sainte Jean Le Vieux route.  Enchanting villages and a Saturday morning market. When I got into San Sebastian in the early hours, I headed straight for 'Centro Cuidad ' and found a space to park right by the river exit into the sea. Sea waves were crashing in to fight the river outflow this night. It was drizzely and everything was misty and wonderful in the nightlights across the bay. Not the Ebro this!! - and a cleaner smell from the sea too. There was so much energy from this water confluence, resounding through the promenade walls, I could not sleep until about 4 am, - after making some 'Cola Cau'. I thought I was going to have to move the Van to get any sleep, but I knew I was in the perfect spot to explore San Sebastian next morning so I stayed and eventually the thundering water stopped worrying me. 

I woke up at 10 am to hear the parking attendants discussing my vehicle, so I threw on some clothes and got out to talk to two nice young ladies and explained I had arrived so late – (early!) - and not noticed the meters on the other side of the road further down, and in the rain too, and they let me off!

So I stuck one hour on the meter ticket and immediately walked into the market hall for breakfast. The market hall is in the next street away from the prom and more or less level with where I'd parked! The market hall bar was out of this world! - What a spread of Bocadillos and Montadillos of every shape, size and recipe. I finally chose a little soft fluffy omlette - I waited for it freshly out of the kitchen - put into a crispy small roll with a slither of the most delicious smoked Spanish Serrano ham to set it off and this was the most wonderful version of bacon and eggs I have ever tasted and will never forget. The 'Cafe con Leche' was excellent.  Then for half an hour, I ran around the old streets to think about where to busk next time, and bought goat and sheep cheeses from that wonderful old covered market... Quite a few small farm stalls - like Poitiers in France, where I would aim to later busk also. The San Sebastian market building does not look much from outside, but it's fascinating inside.

 

On to the Border. Fill up at Spanish prices! and check the tyres - a right pain on the double back ones - took us half an hour - needs a special type of airline nozzle to be easy... and I want to find a supermarket before I leave Spain. I never bought the strawberry jam for Hendo from 'Mas y Mas' or their Peach jam - the 'Centra' make - which I think is the best. So I was lucky to see a huge 'Pryca' before the border. I bought two whole round goats' cheeses to bring home from here, as I love this goats cheese so much and it's so healthy to eat goat’s milk - lower fat and higher minerals. I had considered buying a whole cheese like the one I was buying pieces off, from Mas Y Mas, but they were SO huge there and I couldn't afford it. Here they had smaller whole cheeses of the same make!! - He He! Yippee!

 

We are having Tostados for breakfast - and at other times! - with that gorgeous virgin ripened olive oil Marie Carmen gave me from her relatives farm and those jacuzi'd tomatoes! - Chopped up with garlic and parsley or a bit of spinach or whatever raw and green I've got - fresh Coriander is ace too! - and black pepper and slices of the cheese. I cannot get used to the butter I use to spread and cook with here... I want to live in Spain and use virgin cold pressed olive oil more, but the style of cooking doesn't seem to come easy here, with different veg. etc. But also the temperature and climate make the decision on that cultural bias I think.

I decided to push on to Bayonne and explored that late in the day and busked there the next day. Bayonne Ham festival was on over the Easter weekend. Lots of free samples if you are into 'Jamon Serrano' and many charcuterie offers with wines to go with them too. Landes style cakes and other Landes produce too.

But! - I got stuck in a walled, gated turret of a car park – barrier up on entering of course! - for five hours - till the police borrowed my hammer off me to smash off the barrier padlock! This was quite funny after all! ... Escaping from Bayonne's carpark in the strangely appropriate 'remparts' of this castled, once moated town.

 

Now I had another lucky mistake! I had intended to go to Bordeaux, thinking it would be big and cosmopolitan and I would do well busking there. I missed one small sign at a roundabout - if you don’t take their toll-paying, boring motorways, they don't help you much! - and I ended up trogging inland a bit and cutting up through lovely country and small villages where I stopped and bought a picnic from a bakery and a local charcuterie shop and ate it beside a meadow, with wandering chickens, cockerels and lovely, softly-weathered, leaning and tilting, but charmingly complete, timbered brick farm outbuildings, and violets and primroses and cowslips in the hedge banks. A soft warm afternoon.

I pushed onto Bergerac where Cyrano comes from.  I slept on the river bank - very lovely - not smelly. However! - Echoes of car park problems! - as when I woke next morning I noticed police with barricades, only letting people OUT that Good Friday, and not in - as the Cyrano festival was the next day - Easter Saturday. So a lot going on over Easter in this region for a holiday.

I was sorry I could not stop, but I was worried about getting home to sort out the bank charges etc! - and it has taken me two weeks to deal with it all and all the mail and a backlog of problems and get back into the traces...  But I had time for a quick wander and saw Bergerac has an old, quaint, pretty, pedestrianized centre. But the French are snotty in comparison to the Spanish and you immediately feel the difference from Bayonne and on… It will be a good place to try and busk in future, but I was drained by now, - having arrived at 1 am the night before and found an African restaurant open - Thank the Goddess!. Just what 1 needed - a pile of rice after my van snacks, served with creamy coconut chicken and the hottest pepper sauce on the side. - From €ameroun are the peppers he gets - direct from relatives. I've never tasted these before - sharp and delicious - fresh not dried.

I aimed to busk in Poitiers, but it poured with rain - after I'd spent the time driving round the town sorting out the parking! (nearby), and finding the right spots,- walking about for over an hour the night before. By now I was weary, not stopping long enough to milk places properly and relax in between singing and driving, searching and learning, and being torn between benefitting from the cultural events along the way, making the most of fortuitous arrivals and making a bit of money for fuel and food etc. and checking things out for another time to save energy next time round, dealing with time changes of meal times and shopping times and promenading times which gradually shift their prime busy times as you travel, and - wanting to get home to sort out any urgent problems, and see long lost loved ones. It became apparent I could lose more money being later home, than I could compensate for by staying longer to sing more.

 

As I drove up north towards home I saw the castle at Angers looming up and knew this town would also have an old pedestrianized area, and the rain by then had stopped. So I went through the procedure, but after parking, making a sandwich to boost my energies, and an hour walking round, a lot uphill, with my trolley, I had just started to sing and it started to rain again! I had covered my parking fees, and uncovered Angers - maybe for another time. I trundled down the hill and set off home in earnest now, making the ferry in good time from Caen - time enough to stop before the shops closed in a village twinned with Ross on Wye and buy croissants and French patisseries to take home for an Easter Sunday treat, time to finish up my bits of French deli food and artesanar chewy bread in the terminal building and wash it down with one last farewell continental half pint, but, unable to fill the petrol tank to the brim with petrol cheaper than in UK., since there was no petrol station open after 8 pm at Ouistram and I didn't think it worth driving 20 clicks back to Caen to find an all-nighter. But it was half full anyway, and you can’t win ' em all, though you try!

I slept a bit on the ferry, in very comfy reclining seats, but woke up starving at four am and the breakfast options

didn’t open till 5. Nescafe in Plastic cups did not impress me on a French ferry line, but the croissant and brioche were excellent and the fromage frais and fresh fruit salad and grapefruit juice all included for about￡2.50 was amazing value - or would have been if the fresh fruit salad had really been fresh. I think it had been sitting in the frig in preservative for the last few weeks. The fromage frais and juice were good. Still not bad value!

I had just been reading about nanogram doses of Zenobiotics and Zenoestrogens from petrochemicals and Dr.John Lee had just been saying exactly that. - If you stop drinking hot drinks out of plastic cups and heating food in the microwave in plastics, manufacturers will eventually get the message...so now I have ANOTHER letter to write... to Brittany Ferries this time...

 

- "Leave our hormones alone! - Please stop using plastics for hot food and also stop using rigid clear plastics for drinks" - and 20 years on we are still fighting this - and the evidence from the Dr. Clark Research Association precis and refs for us, and the bill for massive cut off the fat surgery of our hormonally obese folks, is showing the truths of the damage from bad plastics on everything from basic WBC immunity to HIV vulnerability.

 

We disembarked at 6.15 am and I was so excited to be home and looking forward to seeing Hendo and Angus and pleased to be driving before the Easter Sunday drivers got out and about. But the tiredness and change of culture took its toll and at first I could not understand the signings and the map - it all seemed confusing after Spain and France and much more complicated somehow!? So after taking a wrong turn and then correcting it, and once again trying to avoid being led onto a motorway, I could not keep awake on the way home, so I turned off down a lane and found, by luck again, a wonderful deep stream with catkins and daffodils and many birds and Mallards flying overhead, and so many unafraid rabbits chatting on the trackway. There were obviously only a few houses down that lane, and what houses!... English country gems. each unique. The charms of England! A lovely homecoming.

 

I climbed in the back and slept soundly for 3 hours and then rang Hendo at 11.30 am, waking him up of course! and saying he'd better be hungry in four hours’ time, for the slice of stuffed rabbit and some ham cooked in wine I had bought with my last few francs in French Ross on Wye and for the French Easter Cakes that wouldn't keep either.

 

I love the adventures of travelling - and meandering! Rivers seem to suck me alongside them! I love the excitement, the discovery, - the improvisation - as I love it in my singing - and the unexpected. But home sweet home! - we need to rest and recover in a routine we are on auto with! Snore, snore, snore! Oh what it is to be able to be a lazy bum at home for a while... and baths with aromatherapy oils! - Bliss for driven muscles and cold van sleeps...

I'll never forget how at the end of the long haul drive down to Spain, I slept the very last night in a village only 40 miles from the Med. I couldn't face the motorways and traffic of Valencia to Javea and opening the house in the dark - I needed sleep first and then daylight. In that not-very-high village - from where I could see the coast and city lights glittering - the ice was a foot thick in the village fountain and the kids were playing 'pass glace' with hunks of it in the square around me. I had 2 thermal sleeping bags and 2 feather quilts - and carpet - below and above me and a woolly hat on, inside the sleeping bag hood. I could see my breath rising from me as I snuggled in, and the pee froze in the potty.