Paella

13 – Holla, the forest fairy

admin

Tuesday, July 29th: Two days to go. We try to go to the Altamira caves again, but it is packed with people, we don’t even get a parking spot and people are in a queue outside the building. We decide to skip it then. Another idea was Bilbao, but we are not really in the mood for another long car ride. So we look around in the area again. My husband finds La Fuentona de Ruente which looks nice and sounds nice, and it is. When we get out of the car, first thing we see is a black cat, so we must be in the right place. We take a walk around a little park and see the cave from where the water goes into the river. If I understand correctly, there is a fairy living in that cave. It looks pretty enchanted, so I better not question it.

The little village next to it looks like a place from a fairy tale or at least from times long ago. I see a man in traditional wooden shoes and a woman in a house grown over from plants, but I don’t dare to take pictures. It’s very peaceful here.

Only the restaurant across the street shows that this is, indeed, a tourist hot spot. It’s full with tourists already and the waitress is not really friendly. She tells us something like we would have to wait a long time for our food if there was any left. Okay then, no business here as well. We are getting used to it.

Next stop is Comillas, very beautiful with a beautiful beach. We take a little walk and then try to find a little snack in the city.

What a stunning view!

In the town centre we witness someone blocking a street and causing a traffic jam. Purpose, stubbornness, stupidity? Who knows. Suddenly, a man gets out of one of the waiting cars and giving the driver a piece of his mind. Not in any way violent, but with veeeery strong language that even we did clearly understand. He smiles at the driver when he goes back to his own car and the jam dissolves. I’ll keep that strategy in mind. Might be coming in handy in France on the way home. Or in Wolfsburg at rush hour. To our surprise (or maybe not), we don’t find any place to eat in the city. So we go back to Santander and plan on buying something to cook in a supermarket. We also need soap bubbles for the concert and some snacks for the time we will wait. There’s a big mall on the way where we should be able to buy everything we need. What we didn’t know is that there are also limitations on parking grounds. So the mall is not accessible for us because Grrrmaneta is too high again. We find another supermarket near the mall and get everything we need there. Except for the bubbles, but like with the posters, the lovely Bogofans will help us with this.

When we get back to the camp ground, we are shocked: The French guests from one of the other houses took Grrrmaneta’s parking spot. Her fanclub is outraged when I tell them. So are we. The phrase „La puta Francia“ is now part of everyone’s vocabulary in the family. We work on plans how to get that spot back. Meanwhile we are listening to some good music on the porch of our little house after the kids found their small Bluetooth speaker in their bag. The kids also have a new game to play: It’s called „Ultraligera live“. K2 climbs on the porch rail and jumps down while K1 is filming this weird spectacle and cheering him on. I can’t deny they’re mine with crazy ideas on their minds like this.

After all this excitement my husband is cooking paella again. Served with some of the putas estrellas and I don’t feel like a German tourist any longer.

4 – We are finally here!

admin

Tuesday, July 22nd: After a perfect night of sleep in the car resp. the tent, we wake up with no intentions to drive today. We ask at the reception if we could stay one more day. They are struggling a bit with this request, but the nice lady then gives me a thumbs up: „We will manage. Stay.“ I already love the people here. So we walk into the town. Only metres away from the camping site a guy with a bike asks us to take a picture of him and a road sign. He’s from Belgium and apparently this town is part of a famous bike race in which Belgians are very successful. I don’t know about bike racing, but I recognize a fan face when I see one. He is very pleased to see this place for himself. That’s something I know and totally understand.

On the next corner we are checking the map when a woman approaches us and asking us something we don’t understand. She then gives us directions in clear Spanish, about how that one street is easier to walk than the other if we wanted to see this spot in town. She switches back mid-sentence, but her smile does not need any translation. I feel a bit dumb for not understanding everything, but she sounds nice and smiles supportive and we decide to take her advice.

We arrive at the town center and immediately stop like tourists to take pictures. It’s breathtaking beautiful here!

And the first black cat is crossing my path. Apparently I am Alice, but following black cats to Wonderland instead of white rabbits.

We walk down to the promenade and try to get some coffee or a snack. Drinks are no problem, but when we try to order food, the waitress ignores us. We have the menus and already decided, but that woman does not return to our table. Well then.

Next stop beach. We finally get to dip our toes into the Bay of Biscay, but the kids decide it’s not only the toes. That we don’t have packed things to change is no reason for them to hold back. At least we have sunscreen.

The way back is hard. We find a supermarket and buy something to eat and drink, but we are all exhausted. We can’t find a bus or at least information if any of the busses will go anywhere near the camping site. We try to get a taxi, but it’s not working here as usual. Here, you apparently have to call the cab company. There are two numbers on the table, both are not working. I walk into a bar and ask if they could call a taxi for me, but they won’t. I check the internet and find a third number and call them. „Hello? Do you speak English?“ – „No, thank you!“ Yay, information and opinion in one short sentence, thank you, Sir! But I didn’t deserve my 660 day streak on Duolingo if I wasn’t capable of ordering a taxi. One year ago I already mastered this quest in Zaragoza. Okay then, en Español. It’s working pretty well. Until they ask me where we were waiting. Instead of telling them the name of the bar behind the taxi stand which was one very easy word, I try to pronounce the name of the street. At that moment I guess I broke the heart of all patron saints of the Basque language, but I promise, I am very sorry, I tried, my feet hurt and the kids were soaked through. Awkward silence. The man on the phone says the name again, barely waits for my yes and hangs up.

A taxi pulls up. A man with two kids gets in because they are standing on the other side of the street while I am still waiting for the green light. One of the kids looks sick, so I let them go. But I try to tell the driver that I am the one who called and still hasn’t got the taxi. He’s talking on his radio and gestures something I read as „someone else will come“. A minute later another cab arrives, thank god, the driver knows a bit of English. He’s nice, he helps with the bags and apparently did not witness the unintended destruction of his lovely language. He tells us that in the city kids don’t need a booster seat (I asked for that on the phone – in Spanish and I am still a bit proud about this accomplishment) which I still try to verify because I have never heard of this. On the other hand, it’s not my licence and I won’t have to pay the fee and the kids are big enough already to not have the seatbelt sitting in their faces. It’s just a short ride, they’ll be fine.

Back at the camping site, my husband is making a delicious Paella on the little camping stove and we’re having real Spanish beer. La vida es maravillosa.

We make a plan for the next day: Leave early, because the forecast predicted rain at 9 in the morning and we want to get the tent into the car before it gets wet.