France/Spain 2022 (Week Seven)

We noticed increasingly more people stopping to chat as we sit having our evening beers; the walking Scots couple, the juxtapose flirty Dutch lady and her hobbling husband. A new van turned up into the previously empty spot directly in front of us (as in parallel parked bumper to bonnet with the customary continental abandon to the English CAMC 6m rule; to which our Dutch friends raised a smile taking about when they used the club site at Brighton and were instructed to park on the peg!) owned by a non English

speaker who thought I was saying you’re a nice man, instead of that’s a nice van. He now smiles incessantly at me and pulls his shorts up even further into his crotch as he walks by now.

We have had a weather blip in the area with Storm Hermene hitting us at the end of the weekend with a couple of days of rain, particularly heavy at night with the site roads becoming rivers at times; by Tuesday normal service was resumed.

On the Wednesday I got into a unilateral argument with a couple at the washing machine, a newly arrived family queue jumped the line of full washing bags placed next to the machine as we’ve learned is the eitiquette. I sauntered over on my turn, not really caring to be frank; another 30 mins wait not an issue but this Rottweiler of a woman wanted to argue. Her husband intervened despite me clearly telling her I didn’t give a toss; bizarre 5 minutes of my life wasted. She later apologised but then spent another 5 minutes slagging her Daughter off for some reason. It all made sense later as they were with in fact with her Daughter and Son in Law (& had jumped on with another load of theirs) The following story is another phenomenon we’ve seen a lot; oversharing and blatantly “richer than yow” stories. Why they felt the need to tell us the villa they’d come to view was £200k over expectations but still in their budget, and having 6 bedrooms and probably fecking expensive as front line Moraira I concluded that Mum & Daughter were, in fact, arseholes. We consoled ourselves that evening with some “Very Nice” Rioja in the Port, avoiding the Very Very Nice bottle Miss and Mrs Arsehole & family would no doubt have ordered.

On Thursday the bright idea to cycle onto Denia turned out not as planned, scenic yes but with unexpected off road sections through orange and almond groves and circumventing Montgo as I wanted to visit the colourful small typical Spanish town of Jesus Poble en-route. It was definitely worthwhile as we stopped for coffee and enjoyed the pleasant surroundings. Cycling in and out of Denia was not for the faint hearted, with hidden no entry signs and rights of ways not clear on the busy city streets. Our plan to get the ferry back to Javea were crushed, as it was full, meant a return cycle ride but not until sustaining and excellent pizza and chips by the harbour; ignoring Menu del Dia being the Brit heathens we are.

As tired as we were, sleep was postponed as a local resident in the surrounding countryside spent most of the night shouting and whistling, looking for his escaped dog “Juan” I believe it was called. Heard his calls for a good few hours comi from all directions.

On the Friday, after yet another shopping top up, we decided to tackle the climb on bikes up to “Parque Natural del Montgo”. The road climbing up from the Port was dramatically steep, gaining around 200m in less than the first 2km and lined with impressive villas and more impressive views over the glistening and sweeping bay. The 18km route takes us to several “Miradors” each with simply stunning views; either to the mountain ranges beyond Montgo, over to Cumbre de Sol or the beautiful rocky coastline and out to the Mediterranean. The well set out trials and quite roads were a joy, and it somehow reminded me of the Vendee coast and islands. We both loved this circuit and it will stick with us as it showed us another side to Javea; and one we liked. Notable this evening was a first nod to Autumn, with a definite chill in the air once dark, after an otherwise hot sunny day. Denying jumpers for a bit longer though yet.

The week ends with a fine 0-2 away win, a pleasant few hours in the evening sun in the hotel bar (missed the 40 year school reunion being held at the good old Prince of Wales, Spondon) and still undecided as when to go home.