time at the convent

The convent that I stayed in next was on the edge of a large village up in the hills behind Tarragona, about 20 minutes from the sea.  It was the first time I had visited the area and I was pleasantly surprised by the natural landscape.  There were high hills/mountains inland, lush hillsides and vineyards, I use lush loosely and to compare it with other areas of Spain, it was still fairly arid and dry compared to the UK or my little patch of France, but pleasing none the less.  

Disappointing though, plenty of industrial areas with huge huge warehouses, factories and commercial buildings.  They tend now to be gathered into specific areas which is good news but due to the giant oil refinery on the coast there is bound to be a large amount of associated manufacturing in the area.  I didn’t let all of that put me off as the landscape undulated and there are still many beautiful areas with unspoiled views, interesting villages and properties to be found.

My hosts are in the process of partially restoring the convent which had been abandoned for many decades.  The plan is to renovate the two side aisles of the building, shaped like a church, leaving the central nave roofless as a courtyard within.  There had been some work unsympathetic done, before the building was protected as a historic monument, by a recent previous owner, that has to stay.  But the rest will continue in a more harmonious style, mainly to consolidate and secure what remains of the building.

The land around the building had long been a dumping ground for the neighbourhood, fly tipping and an accumulation of years of junk has already been cleared and the transformation back into a garden has begun.  I was tasked with weeding, strimming the waist high vegetation and to help guide my hosts into planning a suitable garden for the convent.  

I toiled each morning, took a short break then trawled estate agent web sites and their offices during the afternoons.  Timings in Spain are different again to france, with the majority of shops and offices closing at around 13.00 and reopening anywhere between 16.00 and 17.30 through till 20.00 or 21.00.  I began to take full advantage of a mini siesta, even though the weather was not that warm, to ward off the tiredness of constant late nights, easy to adapt too and very useful.

Discovering houses all over the region gave me an excellent opportunity to find out where felt good and what I was really looking for.  I soon became aware of the eye sores and the unattractiveness of the local industry as well as the quiet hidden villages nestling in the countryside.  Unfortunately the houses that I was drawn to on paper were not in appropriate places for what I have planned for the future.  Access along miles of dirt track or through industrial zones won’t be conducive to people visiting for holidays or to attend gardening courses, not the appealing to me either with my quest for easy access and involvement with local community.  I saw some lovely and very reasonable properties but my quest continues.

pretty, but rather weedy

what is supposed to be there

amazing courtyard

spring in sitges

I’m having a bit of time away after the winter, partly holiday and also a bit more of a nose into the possibilities in Spain.  I have mentioned my ideas in previous posts from last autumn.

For this trip I have decided to HelpX again, It’s been a while since I gave a hand to folk and decided that it would also be a better way of getting to know the area in a bit more detail.  Thankfully I had made arrangements in advance, as Percy was still in the garage, waiting for a new wheel bearing to be fixed, when I was due to leave.  

I am away in my new, old Golf, a great vehicle and a joy to drive.  Nippy, easy to park, more economical and much less stressful than the van for the journey I am making this time.

My first stop was in Sitges, with a german family who relocated to Spain many years ago.  It was good to hear the stories of settling in and integration into a new way of life and to marvel at the flexibility of languages, with the family speaking german or spanish together, the two boys tended to use catalan between themselves and everyone spoke amazingly good english whenever I was to included in the conversation.

I painted for them, firstly the front facade of the house, which wasn’t at all difficult, just the distance from the ground in some instances, the house is built into a steep hillside so it feels high up even before climbing a ladder.  It was great to make such a fast transformation to a property and the results were immediately appreciated.  Then, after, refreshed one of the guest bedrooms in the house.  I discovered quite how poor low cost paint can be, it was taking five or six coats to give decent coverage so it was soon replaced with a higher quality product and progress was much faster.  I easily got everything done within the week that I was staying.

I made full use of my free time, heading to the beach most days to soak up a bit of sun and for a glorious swim in the sea, I spent much time touring estate agents, checking property websites and heading out to visit potential properties.  It’s interesting to see how different planning laws have affected housing here and how the enthusiasm (greed) of the last property boom has changed the landscape, particularly as it was stopped in full flow when the most recent financial crash hit the shores.  There are unfinished estates of houses all over the place, strange zones of cramped housing where the city folk once had allotments and a tiny shed that have since been developed, often without permission, over the decades, leading to fairly smart, pricy properties squashed together with completely inadequate vehicle access and an almost shanty feel.  Not cheap either, until you discover that there is little other alternative in many places without being completely out in the sticks.  I found nothing that fitted my criterion during the week that I was there, so headed off, as planned to my next host an hour or so further south.

woody, my golf on holiday in the sun

the sun setting over the catalan hills

freshly painted facade 

A Fuller week

Here’s a tiny glimpse of a great week spent with good friends from the UK.  For some reason there is minimal photographic evidence, but I have excellent memories of us having a lovely time.  A lack of sunshine on certain days meant that the showering facilities were rather colder than expected and the composting loo was deemed not to be up to the standards of modern day living, a few too many flying, stinging, biting things for comfort, but all in all, I believe a positive experience.  We ate and drank well and had several tourist excursions to places that I would never have visited on my own.

http://gouffre-esparros.fr/le-gouffre/la-visite/la-visite-en-images/

A great, though much longer than expected, walk in the mountains to see the tallest waterfall in europe.  Little Emma did amazingly well having set out on a walk that we thought was going to be an hour and a half but was actually nearer to five hours.  we should have taken out picnic with us.

there were that many people we could see where to go

can you spot the Fuller family?

getting soaked

Brilliant achievement

Cirque de Gavarnie from a distance

Next time I’ll wear appropriate footwear when I have the opportunity to visit the local amusement park. Parc de Demi Lune.   Proper flying fox and tree top rope bridge experiences - they didn’t approve of flip flops as appropriate foot wear otherwise I’d have spend half the day up in the trees.  Emma thoroughly enjoyed her pony ride and we all had great fun with the craziest crazy golf ever, but the best bit for everyone were the bumper boats.  Out on a lake with ten or so other bumper boats.  Little, inner tube surrounded tubs powered with outboard motors, with their drivers intent on bumping into and splashing the other occupants, known or otherwise, for fifteen minutes or so.  It was a free for all, we all ended up soaked having had great fun.

The whole visit flew by in a moment and i was left standing in a bit of a daze, had a short moment to gather my thoughts before heading off for a weeks’ participation on a straw bale build project in the mountains.

impressed by an impressionist

Overloaded with such an intense visit I plotted my night time stop over and drove off into the evening.  A cross country route towards one of the main arterial routes heading north towards Calais, there was one campsite within easy reach and with the thought of a hot shower and static facilities decided it was the place to go.  The receptionist booked me in for the exorbitant fee of 7,50 euros and asked if I wanted a map of Giverny, the home of Monet, that was just down the road.  House and gardens open, I was there by chance, so an opportunity not to be missed.  So I ate, had a luxuriating, long, hot shower, an early night, having decided to hit the next spot early before the rush of tourists arrived.  How wrong I was.

I parked up at 8:45 thinking that I could stroll round the village for a while before getting into the gardens when they opened at 9:30, all quiet and calm with no rush or bother, but the car parks were filling up, there were at least a dozen coaches spilling their passengers out onto the tarmac and a sea of campervans already parked up from the previous night.  I had no idea how large a tourist attraction that this place was.  The whole village was a show piece, galleries, coffee shops and restaurants, museums, artists in residence, there didn’t appear to be many houses or places for locals to live any more.  It was all spotless and beautifully kept and it was obvious why, the thousands of tourists that arrive each and every day must bring an enormous wealth to the place.

I queued and paid just after 9:30, hoping to have beaten the rush.  Prearranged groups, however, arrived by a separate entrance and had already flooded the gardens.  Everywhere I looked there were people amongst the plantings, the hum of chatter and the constant clicking of camera shutters as millions of digital images attempted to capture the magic of the gardens.  It took me a while to get, a mass of colours, a jumble of forms, formal pathways and flower borders crammed with more vibrancy than seemed possible.  I didn’t know where to look or how to see what was going on, on top of that the people, it was all rather too much.  Then it began to sink in.  Monet, the impressionist painter,  squint and blur the boundaries and his paintings come to life, so I did the same to the gardens and with some success.  I had tried to see it all, too much, to bright, too bold, when in fact, a softening blur was needed to take away the crisp edges and definition of individual features, rendering the mass a whole.  

The water lily gardens were completely different.  Calm, composed and much gentler on the eye.  The famous bridge, painted an almost luminous green, never free of people, patiently waiting for their chance to be photographed in such an iconic spot.  It was impossible to take a photo without  capturing at least part of someone in the frame, close ups were about the only exception, though even then there was a chance.  One can only imagine how packed the place becomes in peak season, after a couple of hours I had to abort mission and head out into the village for a little calm.  I managed a quick tour of the house on the way, “No photos, NO videos, No touching.”  “One way only”..... , well I said it was quick, I didn’t dwell longer than necessary to get an overview of each room,  just moved along with the throng, at slow plod.  It was fascinating, but as most of the attractions are art, it’ll be easier to see them on line or in a book, at my leisure at some later date than stay with the crowds.  I had had enough of the crowds and wanted to get some space.  The contrast between  two consecutive garden visits couldn’t have been greater.  Both amazing but in very different ways.

chartres in an hour

I stopped off at Chartres for a quick look and to stretch my legs.  Sporadic showers kept me on my toes as I explored the old town at lightening speed on my bicycle:

I must return for a better look round some day.

percy needs an MOT

Percy is due for his MOT, so I’m heading back to the UK for a bit.  I booked the trip ages ago, thinking that I would have been well and truly installed in Vieuzos, but paperwork has been slow and my departure feels far too swift, I’ve hardly got my feet on the ground and I’m heading off again.  But go I shall and will make a good trip of it too.

The journey started well, with the dates of a new month not corresponding with the days of the week, so I set of a day early, thinking my ferry was on Tuesday the 2nd, and not on the Wednesday when it actually departs. I had an extra day to get to Calais. The early start was not without reason, as I was to find out en route.  First stop, Chalets Tendille on the outskirts  of Toulouse, to pay deposit for my chalet.  There was an offer on special offer, almost the exact same building that I had chosen, but in a thicker and so more solid insulating wood, with higher quality window and doors, floor included (the other model it was extra) all for less that my original choice.  Even with an additional window I am saving on my original purchase price.  I had nearly put a cheque in the post to save time!!

Chalet ordered, my next scheduled stop was at the channel, some four days later, so I took my time.  An online calculator suggested that the journey, using motorways, should take about 12 hours.  I tend not to use paid motorways, as my speed doesn’t warrant the extra expense, plus it’s rather nice to see some of the countryside up close and pass through some of the smaller interesting towns along the way.  I increased my driving by half to 18 hours and wasn’t far out.  With a few diversions taken into account it actually took 19.5 hours for the 817 mile journey, comfortably spread over four days with plenty of time to stop off along the way.

To break the journey I did gardens, gardens of all shapes and sizes, in search of inspiration and ideas for when I get going.  The first, a newly opened site, linked to the art  museum of Cecile Sarbourdy , an interesting concept of entertainment and ecological ideas, demonstrating green manures, a mixed fruit orchard, herb gardens and a demonstration garden of the huge variety of plants within the cabbage (brassica) family, along with more formal, established gardens to the front of the museum.  A fascinating idea and somewhere I’d like to revisit in a few years to see how it develops.

part of the cabbage collection

an orchard, the first season after planting

green manures, planted for all to see.  Thew will be dug in to the
ground or composted before the seed sets.

an older formal part of the gardens

here and there

I’ve been to the UK and back.  I spent a wonderful fortnight visiting family and friends, caught some great weather after all those storms and headed back to france with a suitcase full of soft fruit bushes.

Since then I’ve spent two action packed weeks in the mountains, spending time both with Pierre and with Clare at Lou Rider, it was lovely to see out the last of the winter season with good friends and say good bye once and for all to the chalet as it has now been sold (I’m waiting to hear for sure that it’s gone through before posting, so as not to jinx things for Clare).  We had a fairly substantial snow fall just as I arrived back in the mountains, so had amazing ski conditions for a couple of days.  The two remaining helpers at the chalet, Kieran (sp?) and Brian were excellent skiers so it made a change to have to work a bit to keep up.   

The warm weather soon put pay to the amazing conditions and the snow soon turned wet and sticky, catching me out on several occasions resulting in a couple of spectacular wipe outs.  Shaken but not particularly injured, the aches and pains have now departed and am left with the memories of some wonderful descents.  

Clare was busy cleaning and preparing to leave whilst I was there.  I gave a hand, with the tidying and ended up leaving with a van stacked full of useful items for my next project.  It’s all safely stashed in a neighbours barn in Vieuzos now, so don’t have to cart it with me for the next two months.  Thank you Clare.  We ate too, to empty the cupboards and freezers, as nothing could be left this time, a week of scrumptious food, frequently with an asian twist was a real treat and the never ending Sticky Toffee Pudding, that was always such a hit with the guests, finally came to an end.  MMmmmmm.

Somewhere amongst all the excitement I lost my camera, so no photos for the time being, unless I cheat and use some old ones.  I left my name and phone number with the piste services but can’t imagine it’ll be found in a working condition after being outside for so long.  New one ordered, it’s winging its way to me as I write, so won’t be imageless for too long.

biarritz

Biarritz has been a fairly topic of conversation when beaches and surfing has been mentioned in the past, so as I was passing closer than I had ever been, it seemed a shame not to take the opportunity to visit.  The weather was still exceedingly warm and sunny for the time of year, so I headed there immediately I had crossed the border.

A smart, well proportioned beach town, with cliff top hotels, a casino, interesting shops and plenty of moneyed inhabitants.  Interesting when mixed with a large beach bum/surfing population who lived for the next storm and the perfect wave, a can only imagine that both parties tolerate each other and get on one way or another.  With Percy I didn’t fit into either category, but into the weird and wonderful world of the motor home traveler, not that I really feel at home there either.  Just as well as I spend very little time in the allotted camper van parking area as the town and beach are so much more enjoyable.  

The sea was rough with brilliant waves for surfing.  I momentarily wished that I had packed my wet suit and body board, but logistically there really isn’t room.  Swimming is a close second, though after the med last month and the chilly river beaches I had enjoyed in Portugal I severely braced myself for the freezing atlantic waters.  What a pleasant surprise, in comparison to icy river dips, the sea felt warm and playing in the waves was great fun, I lasted a good half hour before feeling the chill and quickly warmed myself in the sun afterwards.  A couple of mornings cycling round the town and the afternoons beach side was a great treat and a wonderful way to pass my birthday, I treated myself to a cliff top restaurant meal to celebrate the passing of another year and the renewed opportunity to further my plans.  Tomorrow the search would become No:1 on the agenda once again.

spot the surfer

the southern side of town

sunset over the spanish coastline

funky modern aquarium

18 October 2013.  birthday boy.

yes Milady, I stayed in Milady

portugal through spain towards france

I stocked up with stores and provisions for the future at the local market and shops, treated Percy to two new tyres (much cheaper than in france) before heading off once again.  Through the hills of Sierra d’Estrella, across the border into Spain.  

It was the first time that I had been in Percy alone since leaving the UK which made it kind of strange for the first day or so.  No one to chat to or marvel at the scenery, no one to map read or program the sat nav.  On the other hand it was peaceful and there was no one to explain to when I took unplanned diversions or stopped for an hour or too to look as wood burning stoves, agricultural machinery and second hand junk. 

Spain passed quickly, with one overnight stop in Bergos, somewhere I would happily visit again, though apart from that, not the most interesting route.  I shared it with a huge quantity of trucks, mainly portuguese, heading in the same direction, up to northern europe with their cargos of goods.  I was glad to get the main part of the journey behind me and return to france.  

Next stop the beach for a few days, a little pause to gather my thoughts, enjoy the last dregs of summer and hopefully get a final dip in the sea before winter.

evidence of a recent forest fire

well burned but with a little regrowth

Percy taking a break after a long climb

road and rail pass through a huge gorge

back on the flat........again

suburban apartment blocks ( could be anywhere in (Spain)

memories of portugal

I couldn't capture the brilliant, star filled night skies

or the absolute silence of the valley

but these are a few of the views that I did....

sunset from the hills

a whole ear of corn sprouting after a shower of rain

container gardening with a difference

the local village to my brothers house

Me, Dad and Windy (Peter)

the river beach at Açor

reflections