Slow, Sunny, Sociable Days in Peñíscola

Zagan the motorhome’s sat still, comfortable on the red earth of Camping Ferrer, a short walk from the centre of Peñíscola, Castelló in northern Valencia (N40.36273, E0.39481). We’ve been here for a few days, and will be here a few more I think.

Seven years ago the thought of staying still for much more than 24 hours, on a campsite, up against a Spanish seaside resort (arghh!!!) would have widened my eyes and had me reaching for Dave’s ignition key, shoving the well-worn accelerator pedal down to the floor and speeding off (at all of 35 mph, he had no turbo after all). But times (or more appropriately, people) change. The two of us no longer have the fearsome drive we had back then, staying on average for 1.5 days before moving to another place, visiting hundreds upon hundreds of towns, cities, beaches, forests, mountain ranges and rivers, and blogging about it each and every evening for years (nope, I don’t know how we did that either).

That doesn’t mean we’re not enjoying our travels, far from it. It just means we’re travelling in a different fashion, one which we feel suits us at the moment, and one which will, for sure, change again in future. Travel has, for me, given me what I feel is a reasonable insight into who I am, the prejudices I never knew I had, the historical context which has helped form me, and the place of wealth and privilege I occupy in the world. It’s given me some small insight into a huge range of topics, which I’d never have been exposed to, had we not opted to prise ourselves free from the rock of security, and float off into the unknown. It continues to do just that, but these days, instead of chasing endlessly over the next hill and around the next corner in search of insight, we’re letting it, just a little more than before, come to us.

And over the past few days, it’s done just that. Just as we were sat feeling a little left out as our many French neighbours laughed and joked through another game of boules, a message came through from Susan and Chris, who’d come across this blog some while back and had just missed us on their way south. Lucky for us, they were willing to bend the ‘never go back’ rule and pop back up to say hello (we once adhered to that rule, and have broken it to dust since). Cracking, we’ll have some company! Just before they arrived, a classic Hymer motorhome
drove in (a sort of stretched Dave, making us both smile in memory of our trusty old van), also sporting British plates, carrying Victoria, Mike and pooch Piglet. Fast forward, as hands are shaken and introductions made, and we found ourselves chatting away, just like that, in a six-folks-one-dog, daft cheap menu del dia, top quality nosh up, heated by the sun with a backdrop of Templar castle and shimmering sea. Sweet!

Susan and Chris are from Belfast, travelling in an impressively compact but comfortable (and much loved) Hymer Exsis. It would be fair to say they, especially Chris, were the most openly enthusiastic-about-everything folks we’ve met in a long time. Both refreshing and funny, these guys are in full-on travel mode, and have covered a huge area of Europe since they set off (they’re using Polar Steps to track their progress – check out their route here).

The need for an MOT and a dwindling war chest is pushing them slowly back towards home, but not for a few more months. We didn’t get much chance to chat about what it was like for them growing up in Northern Ireland, but in a more uplifting light we were fascinated by the honesty cafe they’d helped to set up and promote in the Titanic Quarter back home, and the Wee Tram which they operate to take folks around the actual areas the mighty ship was built. They only stayed a day (which is exactly what we’d have done a few months into our tours) so time was short, but one day we’ll hopefully catch ’em again. Oh, and they gifted us a lovely pot of orange blossom honey, in thanks for the blog, which of course they didn’t need to do (they’d planned to give us some wine until I scuppered that approach by being awkwardly tee-total, sorry guys!)

Victoria and Mike (you can follow their adventures on Facebook) are from various places back in the UK. They have been travelling for almost a year, including a multi-month stint in Greece where Mike was treated in hospital for sepsis. A potentially life or limb threatening illness, they found themselves dealing with nigh-on the worst possible scenario while out touring, but managed the whole process with calmness and what sounded like truly great service from the Greek hospital Mike was treated in, in a city called Tripoli. Their health insurers were, after initially confusing the hospital with one in Libya, very helpful and ensured all their expenses were covered. These guys have sold most of what they owned, holding onto the funds ready to enable whatever form of future life they choose for themselves, and are making their way back through Spain and France to the UK over the next few weeks.

So, what have we been up to? A mixture of stuff, Peniscola has a fair bit to offer, even out of season. We’ve tucked into a couple of 3-hour menu del dias, eating ourselves daft on huge juicy mejillones (seasoned mussels), fried croquetas (croquettes), melon y jamón (melon and dry-cured ham), paella mixta (seafood and meat paella) and fried sardinas (small whole fish, battered). The restaurants, like the resort as a whole, are fairly quiet at this time of year, but were lively enough with a combination of Spaniards, Brits and other guiris (foreigners). The food was great quality, too good for the €15 a head cost, including wine/pop and tip. The multi-lingual chap running one of the restaurants had me running in the opposite direction the first time we passed him, as he leapt into action while we paused for a moment to eyeball the menu outside, bloody touts! The next time we were there with Mike and Victoria, I got to eat humble pie as he turned out to a friendly, multi-lingual, hard working, easy going and gentle character, serving everyone as fast as his feet would carry him, running into the street to help a lady who’d fallen from her bike and pouring us shots of non-alcoholic ‘liquor’ at the end of a beautiful meal.

To balance all the rich food we’ve been out running. To the south of us here is the longest stretch of undeveloped coastline between France and Andalusia, the Parque Natural la Sierra de Irta. It’s like stepping back in time, as you run, walk, drive or cycle the dirt road along the rugged coast, with the hotels, restaurants and villas of the resort quickly giving way to a near-virgin landscape of rocks, hardy bushes, pines and occasional empty sandy coves. I’ve done 18 and 11 mile runs down there and back, nipping up to the base of the Torre Badúm (Badum Tower) to admire the views, a reminder of Spain’s Muslim past (possibly – no-one’s sure who first built a tower there).

Ju’s run up the coast to the north, along the clean and deserted beach past the mothballed hotels and apartments up towards Benicarló. We’ve cycled (a bit), fitted ‘grass’ to our steps (to try to decrease the amount of stones and dirt coming into the van), wandered around the castle (backdrop to scenes from El Cid, Game of Thrones and various other films), eyeballed the myriad contents of the ‘China Shops’, peered at the various foodstuffs we don’t recognise in the Consum supermarket, thrown sticks for Piglet on the beach and sat warmed by the sun reading. Life’s good.

What’s next? Probably not much if I’m honest. I know, I know, we make rubbish travel bloggers! Our thinking is we’ll likely stay here for another week, which will cost us 12 x €16 (we get two nights free) = €192. Our budget can take it, especially as we’re not burning any diesel. We’re neither of us hugely motivated to get south quickly. The weather here is, despite the occasional windy overcast days, generally blue-skied and warm (especially when we see snow in Madrid and back home in the UK). There is a pull of culture, of course, to see more of the Spanish towns and cities, to see beautiful landscapes, perhaps to wander a museum or two and maybe happen across a fiesta, but for the moment we’re happily stationary.

Cheers, Jay