Spain – Where is Phil now?

Barcelona

Barcelona, Spain
August 2026.

I have gone off blog writing, again. I know I quit the whole thing in June 2025 and then quit the quitting and continued posting the occasional story. In my mind, I stopped again a few weeks ago as I was going to shift to writing on Substack, rewriting some of my old travel stories in a more narrative style and taking the opportunity to improve my writing with a different audience.

Now, I have decided that wasn’t for me either, so I’ve quit that too. Quitting gets easier the more you do it. I’ve now agreed with myself that I will post here when I’ve travelled, as it’s been a good record of my/our experiences.

I’ve been busy again and know that I can’t have too many things going on in my life at the same time. I’ve sold my flat in St Leonards-on-Sea and have bought a smaller, cheaper flat in Hastings Old Town. It hasn’t completed yet, though I’m expecting it will all be done and I will be moving in late November. My fingers remain crossed that things go smoothly. Selling and buying has taken up a lot of mental energy, but it’s all out of my hands now, so I can write some notes about our visit to Barcelona in early August.

Eleanor’s nephew got married in New York State back in June. We couldn’t go to the wedding but said we would buy the happy couple dinner in Barcelona, where they were visiting as part of their honeymoon. Eleanor and I have both been to Barcelona, but not together, and not since I visited in July 2012. Dinner was great BTW.

This trip was entirely different from my previous visit. Last time I was there, it was my first solo experience in Europe. Even though I’d come from almost six months of solo travel in South East Asia, I found Europe difficult. Maybe I was expecting to be able to understand signs and menus more easily because they are written in the alphabet I’m familiar with. While I enjoyed my time here, it wasn’t the best. Of course, continental Europe hasn’t changed in the years since I first visited, but I have and I enjoyed it immensely and cared much less about not being able to understand much.

We were there from mid-afternoon on Thursday to Sunday morning and stayed in a hotel on the north-western edge of Vila de Gràcia.

It was hot. Gràcia is a suburb on the edge of the city centre, not too far from the Sagrada Família, the big tourist attraction; it’s very residential and has been heavily affected by tourism, particularly through short-term rentals such as Airbnb.

While we didn’t feel unwelcome walking near the hotel or on the thirty-minute walk to a vegan restaurant in the heart of Gràcia, there were numerous spray-painted signs advising ‘Tourists go home’ or ‘Tourists fuck off’ on walls and rubbish bins. It wasn’t intimidating in any way; in fact, I found the messages somewhat amusing, though I’m not sure I would walk around late at night.

I sympathise. I know what tourism does to an area. In the seven years since I moved to St Leonards, the town has taken off: house prices have rocketed and there has been a proliferation of cafés and ‘fancy goods’ shops. None of these are of use to those who have lived in the town for generations and have been priced out. Yes, I know I’m part of the problem. St Leonards and Hastings have been promoted in all the main UK papers over the summer, in those ‘10 best seaside towns in England’ type articles. The town has become very popular with weekenders and day trippers, and these visitors are not the working-class south-east London families who have traditionally come to its bigger neighbour, Hastings (and still do); these are young couples or groups of friends who are happy to spend time and money in cocktail bars near the beach. I like the idea of it, though the reality can be painful at times.

The main issue I have with the increased popularity is the MASSIVE increase in the number of properties on Airbnb. When I was looking to buy down here in 2018, there were three rooms in Hastings on the site. I know it has become more popular over the intervening years, but there were 253 properties available when I looked a few weeks ago. That is insane. How many of those places have been taken from the local market? All of them. I digress.

I’ve been thinking a lot about fascism over the last few years; with the state of the Western world, it’s kind of unavoidable. I’m not thinking about it in a good way, by the way. With Barcelona in mind, I read George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia recently. It’s a memoir of his brief time with the anarchists in Barcelona in the early part of the Spanish Civil War, where he was wounded fighting the fascists. I had a bit of a plan to walk past some of the places mentioned in the book where fighting took place; unfortunately, this fighting was between the various left-wing factions (seemingly we haven’t learned much since, though at least here in the UK, no one is shooting). This was the only thing we had planned other than meeting up with family.

In reality, there wasn’t a lot of Orwell to see; some buildings along La Rambla, that was about it. We took a short side trip to Plaça de George Orwell, which was nothing other than a square with some shops and cafés, and I was a little disappointed. We also visited the Church of Sant Felip Neri, the site of a terrible action by the fascist-supporting Italian air force during the Civil War, who bombed the church while it was acting as a shelter. Forty-two people were killed, including 30 children. The square acts as a memorial to that terrible night in January 1938 with shrapnel holes dotting the walls.

The church is in the Gothic Quarter, not too far from Barcelona Cathedral. The Gothic Quarter is the historic centre of Barcelona and my, and most tourists’, favourite part of the city. We spent some time wandering around the narrow, twisting lanes between the tall tenement buildings. Before 10am is the best time for me, as there are fewer people ruining the ambience and getting in the way of my photos. I wasn’t happy with the images I took, sadly, but I loved the walking, and the very nice coffee we bought from a café we will never find again.

A highlight of the trip was a guided tour of a small section of Cementiri de Montjuïc with Eleanor’s nephew and his wife; they have goth tendencies. I’d met them when they came to the UK last year, so it wasn’t an awkward first family meeting. We had a good time, though it was extremely hot under a cloudless sky and, after a couple of hours, it was enough.

The cemetery is vast: thousands of graves, and there are a few famous Spaniards buried here. Our tour was confined to a tiny corner, but it was interesting and I took a lot of photos: photos of faded plastic flowers, interesting headstones and these small family tombs, made for generations of jars of ashes. I like the photos of the interred and their families, fading in the harsh sun. It feels easier to connect to what the cemetery means and what it is for.

I’ve always thought that cemeteries were best visited in the rain, under dark clouds; maybe even in dense fog. But I’ve changed my mind: cemeteries are to be visited in the sun, the bright, hot, friendly sun.

Our hotel was close to Park Güell, about a 25-minute walk away. We went there late in the afternoon, hoping the crowds would have abated a bit. It’s a very popular destination, as it contains a couple of buildings by Antoni Gaudí, the famous (infamous?) Catalan architect.

What I wasn’t expecting was that the park was up a very steep hill. Fortunately, there is an escalator, or series of escalators, up to the top: outdoor escalators. I’ve not seen too many of these before.

The park itself was not that interesting: hills and trees and people, and, man, it was humid. There were some interesting Gaudí constructions, the famous dragon being one of them. There are a lot of people there.

There is also a great view of the Basilica de la Sagrada Família, Gaudí’s greatest work.

We had sort of decided not to visit the Sagrada Família, as we had seen it on our previous visits. However, seeing it from the park, how glorious it is and how it stands so majestically in the Barcelona skyline, we changed our minds. As we’re mad, and it was not THAT hot first thing, we chose to walk the 40 minutes from the hotel. I like walking through residential areas when I’m somewhere different; it was a nice walk, but the café at the end, opposite the cathedral, with its air-conditioning and cold drinks, was a welcome respite.

Last time I was here, there was scaffolding and cranes, as work was still to be done to finish the cathedral. It is, in theory, finished, but there are still cranes on the skyline. I guess this is how it will be. It was very busy; this is the premier attraction in Barcelona, after all. We briefly considered going inside, as I haven’t, but the queue was long and we had no pre-booked tickets. We could see how busy it was inside, so it was the right thing to do.

There are a couple of great Gaudí buildings on La Rambla. He was an amazing, visionary architect and I love the buildings he designed. Those curves!

Central Barcelona is very walkable, other than the main street, La Rambla, which is mostly dug up right now. It’s also a nice place to walk, even in the heat. We used the Metro a bit to get to and from a couple of places, but we did about 60,000 steps over the two and a half days on the ground. I liked it all very much.

The Chair

Xelardo, Lliria, Valencia, Spain
18-21 March 2026
I have a thing about exploring derelict and abandoned places, or rather, in the more heroic and adventurous section of my mind I have a thing about exploring abandoned or derelict places. Of course, the gap between where my mind is and reality is huge – I’m way too chicken to climb a fence, crack open a slightly ajar door or slither under a gate. Sneaking into places isn’t really my thing, especially on my own and in a foreign country. But, having said that…

I’ve been into The House twice, the first was back in 2017, the second a year later. It sits alone and unloved at the end of a stony dirt road about 200 metres from our friends’ back fence. Back in 2017 a house that is now on the far side of that fence had yet to be built, though even before that The House wasn’t visible from their first floor deck.

I’m not sure whether The House was ever a home or just orchard workers’ temporary accommodation. There is no apparent sign of power; no plug sockets inside or power lines running from the road, so whatever it was it was rustic. I’m also not sure when it was abandoned or why. It must have been a long time ago as there is no sign of an orchard in the hard scrabble field around it.

What drew me back to The House and will again next time I visit, is The Chair. I loved The Chair and wanted to see if it was still resident and what condition it’s in now, nine years after I first found it. This is from May 2017.

The Chair, it’s safe to say, is not beautiful. It’s an old 70s lump of wood, metal, springs and stuffing wrapped up in what I assume was fashionable at the time of purchase, brown leather. It’s not pretty, but it’s great and I’m so pleased that it’s still there and still in a reasonable state. There is some damage, but less than I expected, but it has been spun 180 degrees from when I last saw it.

I’m not sure what wild(ish) animals live in this area and I guess I should think about snakes as I yomp around in the low scrub, but I keep forgetting to check if they’re a thing around here.

Xelardo is an urbanisation, a residential extension to the small town of Lliria, at the far end of the number 2 train line, 40 minutes from the centre of Valencia. It’s not remote remote, but it’s hardly urban. There are, of course, yoof here, but they’ve obviously not as much into vandalism as some, though a second chair that has been moved outside and left rotting amongst the cacti has been almost completely destroyed.

I made two attempts at viewing The Chair. The first, on the walk to Marines I mentioned in the last post, was disturbed by a man walking a dog and I didn’t venture into The House. On the return from Marines the coast was clear, so I nipped in and took my photo. If I was less chicken, I would have explored a bit more.

Valencia – Fallas

Valencia
18-21 March 2026

Every March, Valencia loses its mind in the best possible way. For 10 days and nights the Fallas festival, culminating on the feast of Saint Joseph on the 19th, fills the city with towering satirical sculptures, relentless fireworks, and the kind of noise that just doesn’t stop. Not for anyone, just ask Morrissey. I have zero sympathy.

The origins go back to medieval carpenters, who’d burn off scraps of wood and their wooden candle-holders (parots) at the end of winter as a nod to the longer days ahead. Over centuries it evolved into something spectacular: over 700 enormous Fallas sculptures, months in the making, and built by community and neighbourhood groups from all over the city, are all burned to the ground on the final night, La Cremà.

In 2016 it earned UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage status and nearly two million visitors turn up for the five main days. It’s loud, chaotic, and utterly fabulous, and the purpose of this visit to Valencia.

Paul and I cycled into LLiria where we rode around the centre looking for some of the local Fallas before heading down to the station, where we missed a train by a matter of seconds.

A good excuse to grab a café bonbon from the coffee shop near the station. I love bonbon; double espresso shot with sweetened condensed milk. My phone decided to focus on anything but the coffee cup.

By the time the train arrived in central Valencia it was absolutely rammed, seemingly busier than the busiest commute. We let people exit the station before attempting to make our way out, though to be fair it’s not that we needed to consult a map to work out where to go, everyone was going in the same direction.

Fallas is a big festival for Valencia, and the local authorities take the number of visitors and the income they bring seriously. It was fantastic to see the entire centre of the city was closed to vehicles, there weren’t even bicycles; though in some places there would just be no point in trying to move anywhere other than at the speed of a slow-moving mass of humanity. Luckily the atmosphere was very much one of celebration. I saw police here and there, but my experience was they were unnecessary; even though many people were walking around with cans of beer and wine in their hands. I usually hate crowded events but this was an exception.

I was blown away by the quality, and quantity, of the Fallas, the biggest we saw, and this was from a distance as the street was so packed would have been about five stories high. It was huge. Most were about 40 or 50 feet tall, and most were stunning to look at. The amount of work that goes into them is inspiring, and they all get burned….

The first one we came across was one of the bigger ones. Many of them have some political context, a lot of the political commentary is local so I was out of the joke, but the Trump with a missile for a penis, was one of the least subtle ones.

I took a lot of pictures, so this is just a collection of the best. By the time we left I’d stopped taking photos, there were just so many to see! The work that has gone into them is just awe inspiring, there is so much detail, so much colour and so much more than I exptected.

Fallas is a time of celebration, with family and community and church. Celebration comes with food and of course, as the home of paella, the was a lot of paella on the go, in huge pans all over the city though sadly just for the friends and families of those who made the Fallas their group was representing.

There are a lot of people in local dress, many walking in front with marching bands, if they can find space to march, and it’s a riot of noise, smell and visuals. Like I said, it was a lot of fun. This group walked past as Paul and I took a few moments over an iced vermouth and patatas bravas.

I like Valencia, this must be the fourth or fifth time I’ve visited. I like the mix of wide boulevards in the ‘new’ town and the narrow cobbled lanes in the old. On our first visit in 2016 (oh man, we look so young!) Eleanor and I loved roaming the graffiti covered narrow lanes with the occasional boutique or bar. Now it’s all boutiques and bars and the graffiti has mostly gone. At least the narrow cobbled lanes are still there. It remains a very attractive and very walkable city centre, one of my favourites, and especially so on a cloudless early spring day.

After stopping for a slice of pizza and glass of red we looked at trains back to Lliria. Annoyingly there were regular trains up to 10.30 and nothing until 1am. With the burning of the Fallas not starting until 10 we decided we should head back to Lliria early. There were so many people around that if we missed a 1am train we would be stuck. We’re not 20 any more!

Taking the cautious option meant we were back in Lliria in time for the local, albeit it smaller, burnings. We walked about some of the Fallas in Lliria, watching more young children throwing fireworks about, then stopped for a beer and a snack in a local bar to wait until dark.

It was an excited local family crowd that gathered around, getting bigger and bigger (not compared to the city centre mind!) waiting for the countdown to the firing. Excited kids, and a few excited adults, firecracker bangs echoing from the walls of the buildings around us and bursts of colour in the darkened sky as rockets popped overhead as the tension built. Then the man with the flame arrived….

With a bright flash the fireworks draped over the Fallas ignited, burning bright and then the fire went out and nothing happened. A team of Fallas builders came out to try and get thing to burn and slowly people drifted away. Including Paul and I.

Back to the bikes and the ride to Xerlado and home.

It had been a great day; Valencia does this festival really well. I’d like to return in the future, but will get a hotel room in the city so I can stay for the bigger burnings, I can imagine they’re a load of fun.

Xelardo

Valencia 1
18-21 March 2026

Our friends Paul and Paula have a holiday home on the northern edge of Xelardo, a small urbanisation (I guess this could be described as a distant suburb) to the north of the town of Lliria, which is about 30 km from central Valencia. It’s the final stop on the number 2 Metro line.

Xelardo is a residential area that seems to be predominately populated by dogs, especially the edgeland where our friends’ house is. The area has changed little over the last few years, though they have two new neighbours since I was there in 2018 and the view out the back over scrubland has been disrupted by a new house.

When I booked the flight, I was looking forward to getting out of grey, windy, rainy and cold England. We’ve been living at my flat in St Leonards On Sea since January and the weather has just started to perk up. It’s still cold, but the sun had been out on more than one occasion and we did have an afternoon on the seafront with a glass of wine in the sun; though we’re still wearing the big coats.

I’m flying out of Gatwick as its the nearest airport to St Leonards and there is a direct train; which naturally was cancelled at the last minute. Fortunately, there was an indirect train thirty minutes later and as I’m me, I was still at the airport early. I was through security and in the bar for a pre-flight G&T within 15 minutes of the train arriving.

I landed at Valencia airport early after a fabulously smooth flight, the new EU arrival regulations for us Brits recently started and I was photographed and fingerprinted on arrival, though there were plenty of machines to do this and it didn’t cause the delay I expected. I was soon on the train into Valencia, then on the next train out to Lliria. It’s the penultimate day of Fallas (more on that in another post) and the platform in Valencia and the train to Lliria were very busy.

Paul met me at Lliria station, with a bike helmet in his hand and two electric-bikes by his side. We were riding back to his place but our first stop was dinner in one of the local restaurants. It was dark, I’d had two G&Ts at the airport and two red wines on the plane. I’ve not ridden an e-bike before and had barely ridden a bike in months. It was fun.

Dinner was good, typical tapas washed down with more red wine. I was decidedly unsober when we finally rode the 15 minutes to Xelardo, luckily most of it was on bike paths as I’m sure I was wobbling around a bit as we rode. We made good use of those paths and bikes over the next few days.

The next day, Thursday, we went into Valencia to join tens of thousands of others for the final day of Fallas celebrations, and like I said up front I will write about that soon.

On Friday we took a walk around the bit of Xelardo where Paul and Paula’s house is. Xelardo is a residential area, I don’t think there is even a shop. It’s very quiet, a lot of the houses are second homes, and I guess most people who are here full time keep to themselves. There are a lot of dogs. A LOT of dogs, and they bark as soon as we get close to their homes. Fortunately, the dogs are behind high fences and big gates.

It’s strange on the edge of towns, especially quiet agricultural towns like this, where beyond the back fence lie empty scrubland or small orange or olive farms when picking season has passed. There are a few abandoned farm buildings beyond the fence, and these add to the eeriness of the place. It’s so quiet.

The streets we walked were largely deserted, not even parked cars to get in the way of photos. The ‘roads’ on the edge of town are still not much more than dirt tracks, perhaps flattened every few years.

Inside from the edge there has been road maintenance over the last few years, footpaths and sewage has been installed and some of the roads look like they’re about to be sealed.

On one of these streets a man came out his gate and stared at us for a while as I took photos of an abandoned ‘mansion’ over the road. His dog barked incessantly from behind the gate as he stood. We didn’t feel like we were welcome in ‘his’ street, even though it was five minutes on foot from Paul’s. Maybe he is worried someone will buy the old mansion and convert into a hotel?

There was an abandoned campground nearby that I found a way into back in 2018 and I was keen to see what it was like now. Sadly, it was devasted by a huge fire in the Covid years, and the site has largely been cleared now. I was going to sneak in again through the solitary hole in the fence, but I heard someone working in one of the buildings so chose caution instead. I was a bit disappointed to be honest as I was hoping see what 8 years had done to the place.

Next to the campsite is a small, forested area, I suspect this is used on the quiet as a firewood source by the locals. Since the campsite was cleared it’s become a bit of a dumping ground and is strewn with household rubbish. The newly laid sewage lines run to the campground and the forest so I suspect these will soon be subdivided so more empty houses can be built.

A derelict pig farm sits on one side of a sealed road on the northern edge of town, houses line the other. I can’t imagine what it was like living over the road from a pig farm, though I guess it was a local employer that hasn’t been replaced.

We loop back through the older streets, lined with houses on both sides, the barking of dogs still following us as we go. Drawing close to home we share a nod and a ‘hola’ with a woman walking a dog, the only human interaction in an hour of walking.

Living on the edge of town is weird.

P.S. I like Xerlado and it’s not weird, the people we do see are always friendly and welcoming, other than the guy outside the mansion. I wrote this slightly satirically; definitely for effect and to complement the images.

Fear of the Walking Dead.

Sunday 01 July 2018 – Xelardo, Lliria, Valencia, Spain.

Acting innocent, trying to blend, look like a local or a regular visitor, someone possibly walking, in my case, an imaginary dog, I wait for the lone car to pass down this quiet, dusty road. As soon as it is out of sight, with pounding heart and sweat pouring (it is Spain and really hot) I scramble through the hole in the fence and into a scene from The Walking Dead.

Welcome to Camping Aguas de Lliria. Contentiously and rapidly abandoned in 2009, the site is a ghostly reminder of what was a large campground with some permanent residents. I am not sure how long it was open but this website suggests it was running for at least 15 years before the council at, very short notice, closed it down for supposedly not having a permit when it was originally built, locking residents and holiday makers out.

On reading the website I was shocked to see the place had been closed for so long. There is lots of rubbish and some vandalism, but nothing that says almost 10 years have passed. Perhaps its isolation and the dry weather has allowed for some level of preservation? We will see.

Before venturing to the campground I wanted to check the abandoned house I visited last year. There was an old stuffed chair in one of its three rooms and I hoped it was still lurking, lumpen, in the corner. I approached cautiously again, a little nervous. I didn’t want to run into the owner. I now know this is private property and being semi-rural the likelihood is no one speaks English. My Spanish is worse than poor, even the words I do know come out sounding mangled, dulled by my flat New Zealand accent. Unintelligible.

Approaching, I saw a stuffed chair outside the front door, someone had tried to burn it, stuffing had been ripped, but it had been resilient to their attempts. I was pleased, this was not the end I wanted for my chair. I wanted a long slow gradual decay, perhaps to be found by future generations, still lurking, lumpen in its corner.

Passing inside the door, over broken glass and other detritus I discovered the outside chair must have been the twin of mine, for there mine was still lurking, still lumpy and tatty; but mostly complete. Unburnt, unmoved, still dignified. Still in the corner where I first found it.

People have been here since I last came, there is more damage to the interior, more rubbish on the ground, dead fires, empty and smashed bottles. Signs of small parties, youthful nights, exuberance and stupidity. Sometimes I miss those days.

I start to head in the direction of the campsite, discovering I am not too far from a road, and a house. A car comes down the road and stops. I am standing on the edge of a ploughed field, sort of behind a small scrubby tree, a man gets out of the car, though just walks to, and then in to, the driveway of the house. Phew. I beat a hasty retreat, back over the slight ridge, past the house and up a small rocky trail to some old gates that I know, from last year, lead to land that is open and used by locals to walk their dogs.

I feel more certain of my legitimacy and stop to take some photos of the grass and these weird little plants that I like the look of, but have no idea what they are called.

Soon I am walking down the road, along the fence line of the campsite, looking for entry points; maybe rapid exit points if needed later. I find a way in, a gap big enough to get through quickly. Just as I approach, a car comes down the road. I start to walk purposefully, innocently, waving to the driver as he passes, slowing immediately he is gone. I wait till the car is out of sight, then turn back and quickly enter into the campground, into a scene from The Walking Dead, thankfully without the flesh eating zombies.

It immediately feels strange, as if crossing through that chain link fence has crossed me into another less joyful dimension. It ‘feels’ quiet, deserted. Both are good things, hopefully reality will match the feeling and I will not come across anyone or anything that presents a danger.

I get the camera out of my bag, I have bought the old 5d with a 50mm lens, nothing fancy, no big heavy lenses and nothing that would get caught on the fence if I have to make a hurried exit. There is a surprisingly large amount of stuff, the result of the rapid departure of the people who lived here.

There has been some vandalism, though I am surprised at the condition after nine or so years of desertion, there are even some windows that have not been smashed. Though there is a ton of rubbish strewn about.

I can see people have dossed/camped or hidden away here over the years, small fire pits are scattered here and there. I am guessing the council or the original owners used to sweep through here in the early days. Numerous holes in the fence have been repaired, but more have been made and I spotted three or four as I walked down the road, keeping an eye on escape points.

I am still a bit nervous, I worry about wild dogs, and wilder people. The image of disturbed zombies does not leave my mind. I know these things do not exist, but…

I do not wander too far in, I am not that courageous. The place is massive, far bigger than it looks from outside, a large portion has been burnt down, though none of the fixed dwellings look fire damaged. There is some irony to be found.

After thirty minutes of quiet skulking I decide to leave. Heading back to the hole I came in, I walk up the road to the chained entrance. Stopping to take a photo through the gate. A final reminder that my fears a zombie apocalypse had occurred as I crossed dimensions were not entirely unfounded. It was good to be back in the real world again. I think.

Was this the best paella?

Tuesday July 3 2018 – Valencia, Spain.

This is my fourth, and Eleanor’s third visit to Valencia, staying with friends Paula and Paul in their holiday home on the edge of Lliria, a small town at the far end of one of the Metro lines. We are all here for three nights, with not a lot planned apart from lunch on Sunday with an old work mate. My idea for this trip was to relax, drink cheap lager and wine in and round the pool, eat some food and do some planning, photo editing and writing. I also wanted to make a sneaky visit to the abandoned camp ground nearby.

In hindsight I think the trip was pretty good, but in the immediate aftermath I considered it a bit of a failure. I didn’t really achieve any planning, photo editing or do much writing. That was probably good, I needed to make some time to relax. The reason for the lack of photo editing was the cable for the portable hard drive that contains all my photos disappeared somewhere between security at Stansted Airport and the arrival hall in Valencia. To say I was pissed off would be an understatement. It did remind me that I HAVE to do a backup of that drive when I get home and have a replacement cable…

Sunday we met ex-work-mate, Fran, for lunch. Fran is Valencian, returning from London earlier this year. He has long recommended Casa Carmela for the best paella in town and was keen to introduce us to it, and we were keen to accept the offer.

It is a scorcher of a day, 30 degrees plus, with the clearest sky and not a breath of breeze to speak of. A lot of Valencians were hitting the beach, and it was a very crowded tram ride from the station to the sea front; but so nice to travel by tram rather than car or foot.

We arrived early and took the opportunity to walk along the beach front, Casa Carmela being at the far end of the beach from the tram stop. The beach was very busy, I should have bought swimming gear with me, I cannot remember the last time I was in the sea, I miss it.

The walk along the promenade is nice, too hot to be thoroughly enjoyable. Being able to stop for a very cold San Miguel at the far end was a fine reward and made walking in the heat almost bearable. Stupidly (or arrogantly) I did not put any sun screen on my face before we left and I could feel my skin tightening and burning as we walked. There was not a lot of shade till the beach bar. Lesson possibly learned.

Lunch at Casa Carmela was everything I had been led to believe. We had an extraordinary local white wine and the bbqed squid was just exceptional, I have never had squid that nice, nor expect to again, unless we come back. However, we were there for the paella, not the squid nor the wine, and we were not let down. The seafood paella was massive, unbelievably we all ate till bursting, yet there was still some left at the end. It was as good as Fran had said.

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There was a tiny, tiny space left after the paella, even the dessert stomach had been used up. Fran suggested a cafe bombon to wrap up the perfect Valencian meal. Cafe Bombon originated in Valencia and is a European version of coffee found all over SE Asia, a shot of espresso mixed with sweetened condensed milk. I absolutely loved this drink on my travels in Asia and did not know existed in Europe. It was perfect and a fine end to a very enjoyable feasting experience.

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After lunch we piled into Fran’s car and he took us to a nearby horcheta bar, horcheta is a non-alcoholic drink made from tiger nut and is a regional speciality. I have had it before and it is very nice, like a mildly sweet milk shake, and over ice was very welcome on such a hot day. The bar had the TV on and a good crowd there for the Spain v Russia world cup game, the other reason for going there. Surprisingly, and sadly Spain lost, so it was a quiet crowd that left after the game.

Late that afternoon I went on a small tour of discovery in the abandoned campground I came across last time we visited. Camping Aguas De Lliria was shut down by the council in 2009 and my next post I will explore it and the nearby fields more closely.

The following day we did not do much, lots of reading, some eating, swimming, lounging etc.

Perhaps some watching of football on the telly. The sunset was verging, on but was not quite, spectacular.

I have seen spectacular here before, and good as this sunset was, it was not up to that standard.

Tuesday was all about packing, cleaning, waiting for a delayed flight back to London and then home.

The answer was yes, that was the best paella….

Exploring the ruins of Lliria and Xelardo

Monday 01 and Tuesday 02 May 2017 – Lliria, Spain.

We arrived back in Lliria around mid-day and were met at the station by Paula and Paul. We decided to do a walking tour of the centre of Lliria as El and I had not seen much of the town in daylight. We have visited various cafes and restaurants in the evenings, but have not seen the old town in daylight. I was pleasantly surprised!

I have always like Spanish domestic architecture, the plastered and painted homes, and the colour contrasts between neighbours and sky. No long rows of red brick terraces here.

I was surprised to find that Lliria is an ancient town, the old centre on the hill in middle of town was first occupied by the Iberians and was sacked by the Romans in 76BC. There is a small historical trail and a modern museum with artefacts from the Roman period. As it was a public holiday, and a Monday, most of it was closed.

The 17^th century Church of Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion was our first stop, the doors were open so went inside for a look around, only to discover that it was actually closed and the workmen were just moving things outside. We were gently shoo-ed out, but I did get a photo. It would be worth going back for a better look another time.

At the top of the hill was the museum, which we discovered was closed when we got there, it is a short, though nice walk through what I think is a typical hillside Spanish streetscape of narrow lanes and predominantly white houses. There are a few signs of Roman occupation outside the museum.

Just down from the museum is the Church of the Blood, the first Christian church to be built in Lliria in 1238. Like a lot of other churches in this and the southern region of Spain it was built on the site of a Moorish Mosque. There is not a lot to be read about the Moorish occupation of the region, something I am going to have do some research on before I return.

This building is from the 15^th century and was an old furnace, it is part of the old walls of the town. I do love it when an ancient home is still being used, buildings that are older than the European occupation of New Zealand.

Walking back down to the station we passed the old station, and interestingly a sign on the old station house with the name of Liria – with only one l. When and why did it change?

After a bit of a rest back at the house in Xelardo I decided to go for a walk into the nearby orange groves. Paula and Paul’s house is the last house before some orange and olive orchards, though there is some scrubland next door. Even though it was still quite sunny, and only very early in the evening I took my camera and went for a stroll. I wanted some harsh light, cactus has to be photographed with a blue sky and bright sun.

The area of scrubland was a lot bigger than I expected, I was not sure if it was private or not, so I took a tentative walk up a dirt path into it. I found out late that the area is open land and everyone walks through. Next time I will not be so circumspect. I walked up the path as far as these old stuck open gates, they led into the neighbouring orange grove, but I suspect no one has been through them for a while.

Returning back to the road I strolled along until the road ran out at what appeared to be the entrance to someone’s house, so I turned round and walked back the way I came. Stopping to take a photo of the weeds growing up the side of an old shed.

I spotted what appeared to be an abandoned house between the scrubland and the orange trees, I could not see anyone around, so took a slow and innocent looking walk up the old track to the house. Ready to run if I heard a dog, or shrug my shoulders and explain that I did not speak Spanish if someone stopped me. I didn’t see anyone on the approach.

I had a good look around, and inside the building. There was this fabulous old stuffed chair in there, I wish I had the big camera and my tripod. Next time. (Next time seems to be quite a regular refrain in my blog posts these days, hopefully there will be some next times).

When I was approaching the house I had seen the roof of what appeared to be more dereliction beyond. I was going to sneak over there next, but heard voices and then could some kids there. This was obviously private land, so I snuck back to the road and walked on home to find El and Paula sitting by the pool enjoying the last of the sun. It was far too cold to go swimming!

I told Paula and Paul about my walk and the abandoned building I had seen, they told that it was a derelict campsite that had closed a few years ago. This really piqued my interest and I was quite keen to go out and find it. Paul offered to come with me and show me the way. I cannot find out anything on the campsite or why it is closed, I am guessing due to financial reasons, as it is a massive site, and miles from anywhere.

I was expecting a campground for tents, but there were loads of chalets, caravans and other buildings. It is all fenced off, and with Paul reluctant to go in I held off, quickly sneaking in to take a couple of photos via a hole in the fence. It must have closed very suddenly as there were so many personal effects lying around. There has been some damage, but not as much as I would have expected. Next time……

Nearby there is a completely bonkers house, the Mansion San Jorge, it too looks deserted. I think it was built as a guest house or small hotel, but it is totally mad. I loved it. All these Gaudi-an towers, and the mouldy paint just added to its madness. Wonderful.

Back at the house it was time to pack up ready to leave tomorrow morning, then dinner, followed by the final episode of series two of ‘Fear the walking dead’ which we have been watching each evening. I took one last photo, and the first colourful sunset we have had, over the hills of the Sierra Calderonas, where we walked on Friday.

We did not have a madly early start on Tuesday, but the alarm was set for 7:00 so we could get to the airport in time. I loved how Ryan Air gets the passengers all excited by starting the boarding process, only to have everyone queue outside.

We left it so we were almost the last people to board so we didn’t have to stand in the sun for too long. This turned out to be quite fortunate as there was a technical issue and the flight was delayed. After some indecision we were eventually all trooped back into the departure lounge.We were delayed by an hour and a half, so our plan to be home by mid-afternoon was completely thwarted and we arrived back in London for rush hour : )

It was a brilliant trip again. I really do like hanging out in Spain!

A night in Valencia

Sunday 30 April and Monday 1 May 2017 – Valencia, Spain.

Today is NLD day. For those not in the know, this is the North London Derby; a football match between Arsenal and Tottenham Hotspur that occurs twice each season and a rivalry that has been going since 1913 when The Arsenal moved from south London to the north. No forgiveness given by the Spurs fans.

El is a long term and ’passionate’ Spurs fan and I have supported The Arsenal since I was a nipper. We watch a lot of football in our house, but the NLD is not a game we watch together.

Before leaving London we had booked a room in the Excelsior Hotel in Valencia for tonight, the plan was to find a pub in town, break house rules and watch the game together then enjoy an evening in this lovely city. This morning we decided it was best to stick with house rules and not watch the game. Just in case. It was a stunner of a day, so no point in ruining it with sporting results!

We caught the Metro from Lliria into Valencia, I have done this journey a couple of times and am familiar with getting from the train into the centre of the old town where the hotel was located. One of the main streets near the hotel was closed to traffic when we arrived in the middle of the afternoon. I was not sure why, it is the May Day holiday on Monday, and I thought there must be something happening then, but the road was open again on Monday morning. We did find a small parade late in the afternoon, though I am not convinced it was for that. The more roads closed the better in my book!

It was a glorious day today, so we dumped our bag in the hotel room and headed straight out for a walk.

We decided to walk to the Science and Arts Centre; though we had visited last February, it is a lovely stroll down an old river bed; with a pond below one of the ancient entry points in to the city.

I really like this walk, it is shaded and cool, and today the light was playing in the wind blown trees, there were loads of people, but it a big wide area and it was never too crowded, just nicely busy.

The ultra modern sci-fi buildings that make up the Science and Arts Centre are just stunning. Last week’s episode of Dr Who was filmed here. I am going to come back here on my own one evening and spend some time taking photos. I could wander all day, though it was very warm and bright.

We arrived back in the centre of town just as the NLD finished, we had managed to avoid the game and checking progress on our phones. Sadly Arsenal lost, a result I was expecting. At least one of us was happy! It was time to find a bar for a celebratory/commiseratory glass of wine.

On the road up from our hotel we came across this parade forming outside the church of Saint Martin. There were a lot of kids and adults dressed in traditional clothing. Though I am still not sure what the parade was about.

We found an open air bar in the Place de Lope de Vega and decided to sit and relax for a while over a glass of Rose. We were not sitting long when the parade came through the square, we had front row seats!

As the parade passed, unseen by us, one of the paraders set off a of string of very loud fire crackers on the far side of the small square, at the back of Santa Catalina church. It gave us (and most other people) one hell of a fright! I went to investigate afterwards and saw this little sculpture embedded in the stone work on the church. Very cool.

Finishing our glasses we set off again, this time to find somewhere to eat. Lunch, at the science museum had been a disappointment, we had had such good food in LLiria so we didn’t want touristy downtown Valencia to let us down. It was much busier out than I thought it would be; it was still quite early by Spanish standards, but it was a nice evening to stroll and we were not in any rush and we did find a place and did really enjoy the food.

I love the small winding alleys and streets in this section of Valencia, and that it is all a little dishevelled. I could easily live in this town. If I spoke Spanish or the Valencian variation. Bodega de la Sarieta was a nice spot to people watch and the food was great.

With very full bellies; the food was too good :), we sauntered around the cathedral area for a short while before waddling back to the hotel for the night.

There was even a little bit of street art to keep my urban soul happy.

I didn’t have a brilliant sleep, the very small room was either too warm with the air con off, or too noisy with the air con on, I suspect the full belly didn’t help much either… We were in no particular rush on Monday morning, we did have a room with a balcony, though there was no great view or anything; it was still nice to be outside relative peace in the city.

I loved the stairwell in our hotel!

After a late breakfast we were back on the train to Lliria. The mission to watch the NLD in a bar, a complete, yet welcome failure.

I really like the centre of Valencia, it is small, very touristy, very friendly, attractive and fun. One of my favourite cities.

Walks and wine in Spain.

Thursday 27 to Saturday 29 April 2017 – Lliria, Valencia, Spain.

Two days after getting back from our trip to Cornwall we were off to Spain for a few days with friend Paul and Paula. We have stayed with Paul and Paula at their holiday house in Xelardo, which is an ‘urbanisation’ on the outskirts of Lliria, itself on the outskirts of Valencia. We were really looking forward to the trip, though not to the getting up at 4:00am to go to Stansted Airport bit. Some sacrifices had to be made!

We arrived late morning, and were greeted by a gentle shower of rain. The forecast for the next couple of days is not brilliant, but it does get better over time and is really good on Tuesday – the day we leave. The shower did not last long and was clear by the time we left the super market with a very full trolley and arrived at Casa la Adams.

We had no real plans for the time away, except El and I had booked a room on Sunday in a central Valencia hotel, so after unpacking and eating lunch we decided to take a late afternoon walk through the orange groves to the nearby village of Marines. I took a few photos, but don’t seem to have any of the orange groves. I have a lot of derelict buildings under moody cloudy skies….

And one not so derelict building, where I enjoyed the contrasts of colours and lines.

I really enjoyed the walk, it was down a very rough dirt road, we were passed by a couple of cars, but it was mainly quiet apart from the barking of very aggressive dogs, fortunately from behind high fences and gates. We stopped for a drink in a small cafe/bar in Marines, before having a brief look around the square.

One of the things I like about this part of Spain is that the flora is a mix of things we see in the UK, like daisies, lavender, gorse and thistle and things you expect to see in the desert like cacti.

Friday was another quiet day, I cannot remember what we did in the morning, but in the afternoon we drove to another small and nearby village; Olocau, where we took a walk up to Puntal dels Llops, or Wolf Point. A small hill on the edge of the Sierra Calderonas. On the top of the hill lie the ruins of an Iberian fort which was built in the 4^th century BC and destroyed during the Second Punic Wars of the 2^nd century BC. A walk up a hill, in the country, to visit an ancient ruin. There is not much that makes me happier. I was not let down!

It was a great short walk, like yesterday the fauna was quite interesting, totally different to the UK, very Spartan, and I really liked the contrast between the red soil and varieties of greens and yellows in the trees and shrubs.

I have also never seen this in a fur before, this was quite a common site on the walk, though this was the largest bushy outgrowth I saw, quite remarkable.

The walk to the top took about 40 minutes, and was well worth it, the ruins are quite cool and there is plenty of signage around the place, with a mix of Spanish and English writing.

The fort was a place of refuge from invaders or troublemakers passing through the nearby villages, and was not a major permanent settlement.

I got a bit sidetracked on the walk back down, I had sort of planned in my head when we went away that I would not spend lots of time faffing with photos, I would take a couple here and there and not hold people up, but I did get a bit a carried away here. Visually it is a stunning location, with plenty of colour and interesting lines and layers.

Being spring the broom was in full and glorious flower and I just loved that yellow, and took rather too many photos of it and its contrasting neighbours.

Paul had booked us into a wine tasting late on Saturday morning at the Vera De Estanas winery about an hour away by car near Utiel. I enjoyed the drive in the country, though did have a brief moment of car sickness after spending time gawping at the news on my phone. Lesson learnt.

I am sure the tour was really interesting, sadly it was all in Spanish and I have none at all. It was also a bit wet outside so I was glad I had my coat..

Here are some barrels that contained wine,

some dusty wine bottles, that contained wine,

and some people that also now contain wine. Though not a lot as Paula was driving.

I really liked the building and the grounds, and I am sure I would have enjoyed the tour more if I could have understood any of it. The tile floor was lovely!

Actually the wine was pretty good too, especially their premium red at a whole 10pounds a bottle…

Castillo de Sagunto.

Sunday 28 February 2016 – Valencia, Spain.

With the room nicely pre-warmed last night, along with a late night, red wine and whisky, most of us slept in quite late this morning. Paul managed to sneak out and go to one of the local markets well before anyone else emerged. It was a much warmer morning than yesterday, the wind had dropped and there were hints of a sun peaking through the clouds.

Paul returned soon after we had breakfast and we all set out rather late for today’s adventure. A trip up the coast to the small town of Sagunto and its wonderful old ruined castle.

Sagunto is a port town and the castle sits on a low bluff overlooking the sea and a wide valley. We knew the castle closed at 14:00 on a Sunday and it was after 13:00 when we arrived in town. We drove around for what seemed like ages trying to find the entrance, the first attempt led us completely to the wrong side of the bluff. I had resigned myself (quietly) that this would be as close as I would get to visiting this massive old structure.

We finally found the way in to the right side of town, but found absolutely no where to park. Paul volunteered to drive off and find a park, so Paula, El and I jumped out the car and went looking for the road up to the gates.

We were dropped off outside The Church of Saint Maria, so I stopped for a quick photo of its magnificent doors. The church was started in 1334 and finally completed in 1730, a rather long build – a bit like the restoration of the escalators at Walthamstow Central! As was common at the time, it was built on the site of the main mosque in Sagunto soon after the Christians under Aragon 1 wrestled rule of the town from the Moors. It was finally finished in what has become the Valencian Gothic style of architecture.

Just outside the church there was a small road train that took visitors up the hill to the castle itself, for expediencies sake we jumped on the train and took the lazy way up the hill. Outside the main castle is an old amphitheatre, recently renovated and still used as a theatre.

I was very excited on the final walk up to the entrance, hoping we would be allowed in so late, I am a little boy at heart when it comes to castles and ruins, cannot help it ! Even the outside walls, especially with the un-British sight of cacti growing below had me bouncing…

We arrived at the gate at 13:30, were allowed in but advised we had 30 minutes. I am going to have to go back and visit another day, it is a big place and worthy of a couple of hours! We did make it in, I was very happy.

There has been a settlement on the bluff for hundreds of years. The Roman settlement was under siege by Hannibal way back in 219 BC, this event was the start of the Punic War, one of the most significant periods of warfare in ancient times, Hannibal’s army was finally stopped just outside the gates of Rome. Any further and the world would be a different place !

In 214 BC the town was retaken by Rome and as you would expect what followed for the next few hundred years was long periods of settlement interspersed with the odd invasion, change of ruler, change of religion when the Muslim Moors ruled this part of Spain for 500 (ish) years, with a brief change in the middle. It was in 1238 when Aragon conquered the area that things pretty much settled down for a while.

All this time the castle on the hill was expanded, modified, knocked down a bit, built up some more, but was never really destroyed. You can see influences from all the different groups who have occupied this vast site.

There is little information about the actual interior of the castle, there are a few signs inside that describe some of the sections, but they were not overly verbose and they were in Spanish so not much use in the short time we had. We only managed to see one side – the far end is over a kilometre away.

The Temple of Diana is pretty much the first thing you see once you are through the gate. There is a lot of renovation work going on, numerous sections are fenced off, and you can tell there is a monumentally large and long project going on to explore and renovate the interior. If it is all done as well as the already completed sections then it will be a fabulous place to visit in the future. There are photos of this building from 1923 and it was looking very similar to what it is like now. It must have been maintained for a very long time.

As we did not have a lot of time, I left El and Paula to it and nipped off here and there, taking photos where I saw something interesting, there are parts of the castle that can be explored and clambered on, and I am always up for that. I imagine as things become more formally renovated then the clambering will stop, I am not against that of course, but will take the opportunity to explore where I want when I can. Obviously I take as much care as I can, and do not risk either myself or the place I am exploring.

We explored the eastern end of the castle, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, as you can see the western end is quite a long way away.

Paula took a photo of me taking the photo….

I walked around a small section of the perimeter, there were great views down on to the rooftops of the houses below. I really like a good view of rooftops, especially the higgledy piggledy view over a town built on a hillside. Sagunto looks great from up here and the Church really stands out when viewed from this angle, from the ground it is all bunched up in the narrow cobbled streets and much harder to feel the scale of the building.

The walls are really imposing, and I could see why so much is still standing after such a long time. I also have a thing about walls and trees…

With time running out I headed quickly back over to the centre of the castle, to try and get a good look at the far end, from a distance it looks even more imposing than where I had just been. I really must come back here and explore again more fully. There is a whole castle up on that hill!

The walls show building materials and styles from most of the various occupiers of the site, from the Romans, the Moors and the later Spanish.

There were some great details, in some cases, literally lying on the ground.

All too quickly it was 14:00 and the gates were going to close, so I reluctantly bade adios to Castillo de Sagunto and walked outside to meet El and Paula.

We headed back down the hill, through some of the streets and past houses that I saw from the top of the hill. Looking back at this trip, and back further to my time in southern Spain in 2012, these small hillside, ‘white house’ villages are some of my favourite places to wander around. I love the randomness of the streets, the twisting and turning, the ones that end in steps, or just go nowhere, the fact there are few people about and almost no visible cars. Perfect!

By pure co-incidence at the end of one of the streets we wandered down we found Paul sitting outside Mason el Castillo, a roadside cafe, drinking a beer and waiting for us to turn up. We ordered some food and drinks all round and relaxed there for a while, enjoying the atmosphere and some really nice tapas (again)!

I went for a quick walk around the area, up and down a few more streets, this part of town is really lovely.

It was not a bad day so we decided to head back to the car and drive down to sea and hopefully find an ice cream. On the way back we passed this building which looked like it had an old Roman era pillar holding up one corner of a mezzanine. Wonderful.

On the way to the car, parked in another free train station car park, we passed a real estate agent and was surprised to see that you could by a one bedroom flat in town for 26000 Euros… It probably wasn’t very nice, but that is much less than a car park in parts of London.

We drove down to El Puig, a small beach side town. Sadly, like so many other places in Spain El Puig has its share of failed building ventures and we parked right outside one of them. Liberally covered in graffiti, and broken walls visible through the gaps where doors and windows would have been, this place was a reminder of the failed fortunes of Spain and other places in Mediterranean Europe.

The beach was still nice, and there was plenty of other far more successful businesses along the strip of beach and the marina nearby. We walked down to the end of the marina and then back again, stopping for an ice cream – just as it started to get cold, before heading back to Lliria and Paul and Paula’s house.

I lit the fire inside, while Paul set up the fire in the outside stove, where he eventually baked a wonderful fresh salmon which we had for tea. It was another evening of wine and The Walking Dead and another quite late one. But we did almost finish season two!

We had another good sleep, before getting up quite early on Monday morning as El and I were flying back to London. Paula dropped us off at Lliria station and we caught what must have been a late rush hour train back into Valencia. It was reasonably full by the time we got in to the centre, though we crossed over to another line for the almost deserted train out to the airport.

And that was the end of our trip to Valencia. We had a great time, Paul and Paula’s place is fantastic, Paul and Paula are great hosts, Valencia is an awesome city and we are both really looking forward to going back again.