"In-gerr-land":- the glory and the shame!

The first phase of our migration was a short trip to UK. (It should have been a week, but Ryanair - bless 'em!- moved the outward flight) Prices to fly direct were appalling so we went via Madrid, which gives us a residents' discount for the first leg and plenty of low-cost choice for getting into Gatwick. The down side is - of course - hanging around Barajas airport; but this is not unpleasant. We were inconvenienced by Easyjet refusing to take our bags early because there was an earlier flight and "our bags might get confused". Mmm! Anyway we survived this, and the hidden cafeteria to get onto a completely full but on-time flight, a rapid reclaim, and a fast train to arrive at the Travelodge earlier than expected!

(A warning aside about hand baggage:- Over the last few  weeks we have seen the boarding gates at several airports for Easyjet and Ryanair. Both have issued promininent warnings, but we have seen every time frequent panic, arguments and unexpected payments by those that have missed them - or thought they would get away with it! The gate queues are inspected, and there must be only one bag per person - no separate shopping - no separate handbag, however small! Anything dodgy is tested in the gauge - and in the case of Ryanair weighed - then it's pay up or leave it behind! This is not without stress!)

 

This time we were very lucky indeed with the weather, and the grudgingly packed heavy clothes remained untouched! We visited Balham twice in relation to the rented house (and the chiropodist and Bonmarche). For three nights we were with Neil and Maggie, where the garden was glorious. To make some recompense for always - these days - being the guests we had arranged that we would do an OPK dinner party for them and Paul and Cheryl. (That's Other People's Kitchens - just in case!) Therefore on Maundy Thursday we took a train to London Bridge, took a short walk along the Thames, had a drink at a pub full of both tourists and champagne-swigging office workers, and then "did" Borough Market. Unfortunately (!) it was so hot that it wasn't safe to buy too much that was perishable. We made posh tapas, and had a wonderful time, with much jollity, noting the fact that all three men present have now experienced forced early retirement from public service, and emerged the other end to find what they want!

On Good Friday we went back to Croydon Travelodge and in the evening took a tram over to Morden for dinner with Mick and Jenny of Paleochora fame. Another delightful soiree, starting in a loved garden, and ending up with too-much wine!

On Easter Saturday we went uptown again - this time for a walk around some favourite spots! Leicester Square was a shock:- completely closed off for some Olympics-related nonsense, and on the South Bank there is an exhibition celebrating the Festival of Britain 60 years age. This is great fun, with a "beach", a huge "urban fox" on a roof, and a row of beach huts designed and filled by a range of artists. As we sat outside the NFT we heard thunder, and there followed a quick dash in the rain back to Waterloo and thence to Croydon!

But the sun was back by Easter Sunday morning, and we had arranged to meet Chloe in Brighton. Predictably we were not the only people choosing to go there on such a nice day, so trains were completely full, and we had to let several continue without us! When we left the station we first saw a phalanx of police and a cordonned-off forecourt. Mystery! Then we heard the chanting. On one side of the station area was a group of flag-waving English Defence League thugs in a pub, and on the other (well outnumbering them) were anti-fascist demonstrators. The police were funneling the public between them, so that they could get down to the seafront. There was serious police presence including many on horses. It seems this was all in honour of St George's Day. We sheltered in a pub by a window and saw the march proceed down the hill. All the stereotypes of racists were there! Ruth hurled some mild abuse, and a police officer made eye contact. We had a small interchange about them not being the target - this time at least! Mercifully the number in the march was rather pathetic!

Chloe joined us and we went for our planned lunch. This year the Easters of both Western and Orthodox calendars coincided so her Greek housemate Giorgos was looking for  traditional Easter lamb. Chloe located this excellent taverna on the seafront, and we feasted on tender lamb bought by the kilo, lemon potatoes and tsatsiki. Yum! We were joined by Charlie and her older friend Heather. Needless to say the place was full of Greeks. Afterwards we walked along the promenade and the beach, both of which were as full as we have ever seen them. Then we took a taxi to Chloe's house to dump the warm clothes, and back to the station! On Monday (a UK Bank Holiday) we finished off the shopping and went slowly to Gatwick, where we killed time till check-in and then had a very pleasant meal at Cafe Rouge. We arrived at Girona airport  just before midnight and walked to the handily-located Hotel Vilobi, passed the night and next day picked up Yvette from her hibernation.

Shades of Blues

Once again Carnaval was followed by the Blues Festival.  It was a little more restrained this year - with no seated (paying) concerts, but there were two nights of free three-act shows in the big plaza, and two afternoons of "street blues" around the town.
And the sun shone! Chloe was with us for 11 days. She had brought 12 academic books with her and had to spend a lot of time on her dissertation, so not much beach time, but she got the tan she was after, saw some good music and ate some good food - both out and at home. She came with us for the Friday night free music. We spent both nights listening at La Plaza, which has become a favourite tapas bar. This is behind the stage, but we could sit down, which was important after the injury! All the acts were excellent, especially Red House and The Brew (from Grimsby)! A charming incident was meeting there John and Dave :- old chums that we often meet only at airports, and who cook at Cordon Blue. They were full of the fact that they were just back from UK (Rochdale) where thay had got "married". Next day Ruth was on the prowl for suitable artwork for a card, and found it.

Our final week saw some lovely sunny weather, which brought out the boats, and indeed there was a small regatta in and around the harbour. Chloe left on the Wednesday, so we all went to the airport with Eileen and waited in the outdoor bar, roasting! We then had a few days to close down, although a policy decision has been taken that we will not normally let out the apartment, so there was less clearance and cleaning to be done, and we can store the bikes inside, All much more mellow than for previous departures! Bob caught "the cold" which meant no gym, and some missed goodbyes before we left on Sunday 17th. It was a good six months, with few problems, better weather and the two little breaks of GC and Goa. Nice!!

Ice Packs, Some Feathers, Delayed Sardine and a Surfeit of Tapas!



What's a Grecian urn? 3 euros an hour!

 To everyone's surprise the prettifications of Corralejo Old Town had been almost completed by the start of the carnival - bringing to an end almost two years of mess, false starts and very silly ideas.

The area between Calle La Iglesia and the showground (near Blue Rock and Rougues' Gallery) has caused particular speculation. In the autumn an ornamental arch was erected and removed within 48 hours, and two plots clearly destined for something decorative would change shape from week to week. Finally we have acquired an urn which is a water feature that occasionally dribbles, and a beached boat that is filling with litter. Apparently the original gratings round the urn were stolen! Meanwhile back up Iglesia (the "Cobbled Street") they have removed the very impractical planked patches, which were warping and cracking as soon as installed, requiring hardwood repairs.



The Straight Queen 2011



After the excitement of the first weekend Carnaval has a programme with a specific focus each day:- schools, "Third Age", tourists, young children, and of course the Drag Show. We gave all but the last a miss, but went out on the Tuesday evening and missed any free sightings of the performers through lingering over dinner and then seeing a superb rock band at San Miguel. After a "comfort stop" at the Rock Bob abandoned both Ruth and half-glass of wine to go home to bed.  Shortly after this Ruth left and was hailed by Freddie on his bicycle. He is a stalwart of Africa's chinguito, who is an elderly Gran Canarian seafaring widower with an "extrovert" manner. In trying to escape Ruth misjudged the newly installed kerb and fell heavily into the road! Freddie helped her up. It was a slow and painful limp home. One foot was bruised along the side and the other knee (never good) was agony. Wednesday was spent with ice-packs and virtually no mobility. On Thursday she had to use taxis up and back in order to present an extra radio programme; but sitting for over three hours with the mind on other things did a world of good, and by Friday walking was possible. If we had a euro for everyone who has said something about "taking more water with it", we would be rich indeed!

So to Saturday and the Big Procession, for which dressing up is expected, and largely implemented by the female residents, but shunned by many a lily-livered male! Ruth spent all of  4 euros on some trimmings and feathers, downloaded children's templates and got colouring with felt-tips for her head-dress. We started out at La Luna to meet Dave, Dee and Alex lavishly costumed  as two Vikings and a "Love God". We watched the procession as usual from American Burger, and it was better than last year, but still showing the impact of the crisis! Later at the Rock there were many Cleopatras including Elaine sitting imperiously as a blonde one,  Roman soldiers of many ranks and a good few sheets!

Overnight the clocks went forward. We all knew that, but someone at the council had forgotten it when drawing up the schedule for the Burial of the Sardine. (Carnaval being vaguely linked to Lent has been about as late in the year as it could be!). As a result, the published time for departure was far too early. It would not be dark for the fire and fireworks.  The solution? Say nothing, just let tourists hang around in confusion.  and encourage the drum bands to continue playing! It did, however, result in a better photo of this year's fish and the mourners! Fireworks? Allegedly back up to standard, but we missed them due to a badly timed meal

But the excitement was not all over yet! For months we have been talking to (Cakes) Eileen about the possibility of a "Tapas Trail" around town. We feel that tourists would be more inclined to visit some of the excellent tapas bars if they had their hand held on the first occasion - to see how it works, learn some vocabulary and realise that they would be welcomed. Last Tuesday we joined a trial run. Eileen had produced a guide and made the arrangements. There was she, us, Tom and Cristina from the El Sol newspaper - which has recently changed hands and is going to sponsor the trail - and two genuine "punters" from Manchester. The plan was to visit five bars at 30 minutes each.  First stop was Pincha Cabra and we had a generous selection but began to run late, then off to Casa Manolo, where the dishes just kept coming, and Norteno - ditto, and then Marcelino - by which time we were groaning at each new dish - even the beautiful chunks of fresh tuna! It was as if they were competing with each other to be generous. We finally arrived at La Plaza about two hours late, and he had to be restrained from bringing on more than just cheese. The "Just a few papas?" moment was reminiscent of Mr Creosote. It didn't need detailed feedback from any of us to establish that the real thing will be rather less fullsome.