Assuming that the French air traffic controllers’ shenanigans actually let us return home on Sunday, we have two days left in Spain this trip. We’ve been lucky enough to enjoy the hospitality of two excellent pairs of hosts and have been wanting to take them out for a meal by way of saying both farewell and thank you. Everyone was free on Saturday evening so our original arrangement was to dine out all together on Saturday. I was to cook what seems to be becoming my party piece, Shrimp Etouffée, on Friday for Geoff and Pam, having refreshed my culinary memory last week on Chris and Yvonne.

Plans made, Friday dawned to cold showers. No, the rain in Spain had not returned; rather, the boiler that supplies hot water to the downstairs apartment where we are staying was out. Geoff tried valiantly to relight it but it refused to stay lit. No matter, the upstairs boiler was still working so, for our last day, we’d just use the upstairs facilities giving Geoff time to sort out his latest one of life’s little glitches.

We went shopping for our Shrimp Etouffée supplies and returned for lunch.

Whilst finishing my inevitable slug of rosado after lunch, I decided that the smell in my nostrils was not, on this occasion, a result of Geoff and Pam’s ageing dog Sherry’s ageing digestive system but was, in fact gas. Following my nose I discovered that the boiler supplying the upstairs, the main house, was now less than happy. Hmmm!?

Spanish houses tend to work on bottled propane gas. The bottles are housed in a gas cassita (little house) in two banks of five, a valve switching between the two banks. The normal modus operandi, is to run off the first bank of five until they run dry, then switch to the new bank and reorder five new bottles. Geoff went to the cassita and switched to the other bank of bottles. The upstairs boiler relit.

After an hour or so, the smell of gas returned. The upstairs boiler was once again unhappy. The second bank of cylinders were also empty. Geoff was unhappy. No gas: no hot water and no Shrimp Etouffée tonight. Everyone was unhappy. Geoff arranged for a new delivery but for mañana.

Fortunately, Chris and Yvonne’s Friday plans had fallen through and they were now free so we switched to eating out tonight, Friday, in the hope that Saturday would, indeed, deliver gas for dining in.

We spent a very pleasant evening with Geoff, Pam, Chris and Yvonne in Casa Caty down in Jalón where, “tonight is possible fantastico duck and is possible fantastico lamb”. While Chris launched into half a fantastico duck, Carol and I both chose fantastico lamb which turned out to be a whole leg … each! Memories of our lambing trip to Luc and Nadine last November. Luc had told us that the Spanish like their lambs at about 12kgs. These were clearly examples of that; they were much smaller than legs of English lamb but it was still a lot of meat for one portion. It was beautifully cooked, though.

Now we hope the gas will actually arrive tomorrow so our large shrimp can get their promised etouffée sauce.

[Ed: And if that isn’t a mouthful, nothing is!]

Rental cars in Spain have one great advantage over those that I have had to rent previously in America: they come with comprehensive insurance. In the States, an apparently reasonable rental rate is usually more than doubled by the time you’ve added three different additional insurances to protect you from over zealous dead American pedestrians suing you having killed them. Most unreasonable! The Spanish rental cars also have one slight disadvantage: you are charged for a full tank of fuel when you collect the car and have to return it empty. This, of course, means as near to empty as you dare to get it without coughing and spluttering to an embarrassing standstill on the motorway almost within sight of the airport.

Because we spent our first week here largely stuck indoors with rain falling outdoors, we were approaching the end of our stay with most of a tank of fuel to use up. We chose to use a goodly chunk of it by going on a typically touristy driving route down to Novelda, inland from Alicante, to visit the Gaudiesque Sanctuario de Santa Maria Magdalena. It wasn’t actually designed by Gaudi but followed his style.

The journey down was straightforward enough and after about an hour we spotted the church standing above and just outside of the town of Novelda. Never having seen the famous Gaudi-designed cathedral in Barcelona, my first impression was that the Sanctuario was fancifully ornate. My second impression was that it was much smaller than I had expected it to be. It may look like a cathedral but it definitely isn’t cathedral sized.  My third impression is that this seemed to be a particularly strange place to build such an ornate edifice. The valley above which it stands sentinel is no more than an industrial, almost lunar landscape covered in industrial scars. Check these pictures out and I think you’ll see what I mean.

The church was actually finished after 28 years of effort in 1946 and, doubtless, the quarrying and industrial activities were originally not present. It’s a shame that the Spanish have allowed it’s surroundings to deteriorate to this extent, though. Some vineyards would have looked good.

We continued on our circuit through largely industrial landscapes and, after finding some lunch, drove up into hills on constant hairpin bends. Travelling such uphill, constantly twisting roads, certainly was achieving our goal of using up significant amounts of fuel. We finally returned through Guadalest with superb light but everyone was tiring, especially the driver (yours truly) so there was no more stopping as the fuel gauge continued to plummet.

Back “at home” at about 6:00 PM, the pink went down well. We’ll have to buy some more fuel now to get to Alicante airport on Sunday. 🙂

On previous trips we’d been introduced to the quaint Spanish custom of driving to a font in the mountains armed with a car load of 10 litre containers to fill up with drinking water. There are at least three such fonts within striking distance of us and one frequently sees people at the fonts, car boot open, filling up their containers. Equally frequently, when one goes to fill up one’s own containers, it is necessary to wait while the previous “customer” finishes. The water is excellent quality and free. Of course, some fuel is used getting there and back so the economics are unclear but it seems to me to be an enjoyable ritual.

Chris and Yvonne, our first hosts on this trip, have abandoned this enjoyable ritual in favour of a more boring Brita filter solution [Ed: my opinion] so we’d thus far missed out this trip. However, Geoff and Pam still visit the springs and today they needed a fill up. 15 containers fitted our rental car’s boot almost perfectly (we could have done with a 16th to wedge things in snugly) and we set off with Pam to a font in the hills just behind Murla.The font flows quite swiftly so, as Carol and Pam filled and I loaded, the car was soon laden with about 150 litres of spring water.

The Spanish have begun using their large numbers of recession-hit unemployed on development projects rather than leaving them idle and the font behind Murla has received a considerable amount of attention. Rather than a simple spout in the side of the mountain, it now looks very smart with a rail to protect customers and a paved area to park in m ore safety. The projects resulting from this type of work have a “Plant” sign to proclaim them. (I don’t know what Plant might mean or stand for.) Jalón has also benefitted from quite a bit of Plant work and has many smart new pavements (sidewalks, in Amerispeak) for pedestrians.

How sensible is that?

There was a lot of dry weather and some some today so, acting upon information received, we drove half way up the Bérnia in search of almond blossom. Just before we came over it looked as though our timing was going to be perfecto. However, last week’s rain and cool weather seems to have thrown a spanner into the almond blossom development works. Consequently, now we have trees yet to flower, some which are laden with flowers, and others which have gone over. The blossom display wasn’t as impressive as our first year over here but here are a couple of shots to give you a flavour.

The floor of the Jalon valley is essentially a vineyard, hence all that deliciously cheap rosado. As we were wending our way back, threading our way through the vines to skip around the immensely irritating traffic lights in Lliber, we stumbled across a small group of workers manually pruning the old wood off the vines  making ready for the approaching new growing season. Carol couldn’t resist asking the driver to screech to a halt while she pointed her long lens in their general direction.

Naturally we had to drink to the vine pruners’ health when we arrived back “home”.

In amongst the clouds this morning there were some less-than-familiar patches of blue lurking. Maybe we’d get a chance for some fresh air. In between Xávia and Dénia on the coast lurks a large lump of rock called the Montgó which we’ve wanted to go and take a look at since we were introduced to this area of Spain. The coastal end of the Montgó supposedly resembles an elephant.

After solving the recurring question of what/how much clothing to wear, we set off. Soon after turning out of the valley it was apparent that we were heading away from the lurking blue patches and towards the lurking solid grey. After another mile or so it also became apparent that we had forgotten our Alpen bars for walking snacks. Drat! Undaunted, we continued, negotiated the traffic swarming around un unexpected market in Dénia and found our way to an entrance of the Parc Natural del Montgó.

After an initial ascent up a road threading its way through some well-shod-looking properties, we got onto the track up the mountain itself. This time there was no doubt about the path, which seemed to be more of an old gravel road complete with a wall to stop the unwary falling over the edge. The weather wasn’t clearing up but the walk was relaxing and very pleasant with the sprawl of Dénia with its harbour and a Balearics ferry to our left. We tramped on.

Unlike our favourite walk here around the Bernia, This was a there-and-back job. Also unlike our favourite walk here around the Bernia, the path remained almost identical as did our views, other than a slight change of angle. After three miles of more of the same, and faced with the prospect of the same three miles again on our return trip, a desire for lunch got the better of us and we did an about face. We made it to the eastern “nose” of the elephant, though. To complete the ascent, we’d want a more settled sky and a packed lunch.

It wasn’t a day for landscape photography but we did find another tiny little ermita (chapel, I think) to divert us on the way back down.

We returned to Lliber to find that the sun which hadn’t spread as far as the Montgó had spread as far as Lliber so we finished the day basking in late afternoon sun looking at the wonderful view of the valley from Geoff and Pam’s pad. The picture on the left is what this place is supposed to look like. Naturally, we had to enjoy the view in the company of a glass or three of rosado.

Well, it’s taken six days to arrive but, for our last full day with Chris, Yvonne and el perrito, Scamp, we finally seem to have a sunny day with a beautiful blue sky. At long last Spain doesn’t seem to be doing impressions of England.

Travel and experiencing foreign cultures causes me to form a strong association between certain things and countries. Since I’m a gastrotourist, these things usually revolve around food and drink. Some of my strong associations with Spain are bags of 5Kg/11lb oranges for a measly 2.00€ (3.00€ when they get really expensive) and alcachofas (globe artichokes). Learning how to deal with the latter from instructions in recipe books was something of an act of blind faith the first time but I mastered it and use them now whenever an excuse arises. They’re occasionally available at home but are ubiquitous here. They make great addition to tagines or to paellas.

Happily, Chris and Yvonne are also gastronauts. [Ed: Scamp probably is a canine gastronaut, too, ‘cos he doesn’t seem to care much for dog food.] So, as Saturday is the day for Benissa market, we planned a real team cooking event of a suitable lamb and artichoke feast chez Chris and Yvonne before moving on to Pam and Geoff, only about a mile away, tomorrow.

I lost count of the number of vegetable stalls on Benissa market. There are at least six and all selling a wonderful range of veggies. More artichokes than you could shake wooden spatula at. We chose some pleasingly small and tender looking examples together with some asparagus to grill for lunch. Back home with our market booty.

The sun continued to shine. Carol and I walked el perrito down into Jalón to check out the rastro, the local flea-market, which was heaving. We took refuge in cafe and sat with cafe solos (espressos) in the cafe’s blazing sun trap.

The sun continued to shine. We sat in the garden back “at home” and enjoyed grilled asparagus with crumbled goats cheese and, of course, some rosado for lunch.

Eventually the sun sank below the surrounding hills and the gastroteam retired to the house to prepare Moro’s lamb and artichoke feast – and very good it was, too.

Now that’s what Spain is supposed to be like. Shame it’s expected to rain again tomorrow.

Yet another wet morning. We certainly have not been lucky with the weather. The most sun we saw was last Sunday on the day we arrived. Wednesday was reasonable, i.e. dry, but it wasn’t what I’d call great. Nonetheless we are away from home and in good company and are enjoying being here.

Chris and Yvonne have put their house on the market. We don’t want them to sell it. However, while the rain was falling and three of our number were engaged in another jigsaw puzzle, the phone rang. It was an estate agent arranging a viewing at 2:00 PM. Carol and I decided to go and grab some tapas so as not to be in the way.

Chris sent us to Eusebio’s in Benissa, not an international footballer but in Chris’s opinion one of the better places around for tapas. We found somewhere to park that didn’t look illegal and set off to the restaurant. It was 2:00 PM. We were ushered through to an otherwise empty, plush-looking back room. Sitting at the bar looked more appealing but this is Spain and the day is shifted right by several hours. Shortly, other folks joined us, the room began filling and stopped feeling so impersonal. We chose a few things from the tapas menu including chiparones (baby squid), albondigas (meat balls) and pulpo (octopus). Everything was very good … except the very last dish: the octopus. The octopus wasn’t a bad taste, it was no taste at all – completely and utterly without flavour. What is it with this trip and octopus? This is the second time our choice of pulpo has backfired.

So, if two things could improve in the coming week we’d be even happier than we are: the weather and the octopus.

Chris and Yvonne’s house didn’t sell today. Phew!

Yet more rain was forecast for later in the day but the morning was relatively pleasant so Carol and I dragged ourselves out for a long-awaited walk. Yesterday would have been good, too, but our extravagant birthday lunch took priority. We’d really have liked to walk to the top of the Montgo, a coastal hill near Dénia, but we were a bit late out and weren’t sure how long the weather might take to arrive. So, we picked what looked like a straightforward 2km each way there-and-back walk starting from Murla, just a few miles up the valley from Jalón. Appearances can be deceptive.

Having found a suitable parking spot in Murla, the path started easily enough following a paved path up out of the village passing the traditional Stations of the Cross. I always thought that there were 12 Stations of the Cross but here there were 14. Curious. The paved path became a forest track and led us to a quaint little chapel, the Ermita de Sant Sebastià. We couldn’t get in but Carol managed to grab a flash shot of the interior through the gate/door.

The forest path continued upwards for a while but it wasn’t too long before both the path and the weather began looking a little iffy. Spanish paths aren’t always the clearest – in fact, they are never the clearest – but I took heart as I spotted two red T-shirts heading back down the mountain towards us. Eventually we met a couple heading back down. They had been to the top and advised us to “just follow the small cairns and red markers” and we’d get there. As a parting shot the lady finished off with, “not for the faint-hearted, this path”. Ah, good.

Some of the red marks seemed to be strangely white and not all the cairns were obvious but, resorting to only a little hand-over-hand scrambling, we made it to the Cross … which was not at the top of the mountain (Penya Roja, 792m). We continued for a while but decided that discretion would be the better part of valour given the deteriorating sky and began heading back down.

Wildlife produced the highlight of the day when, about half-way down, we spotted a curious nose-to-tail line of caterpillars. Chris told us the Spanish name for these beasts which pretty obviously translated as processionary caterpillars. He apologized for not warning us about them. They are quite nasty apparently, particularly for pets, ‘cos they are covered in irritating hairs. I think these are the caterpillars of the Pine Processionary Moth. According to various Internet sources, they strip a pine tree of its needles, then set off in a  line in search of another pine tree to strip. One source claimed that research had shown that, if you put the lead caterpillar up against the trailing caterpillar (risking those irritating hairs), thus forming a ring, they would wander round in circles and die of starvation. I kid you not.

You can’t often buy spring onions/scallions in Spain (other than at Brit stores like Iceland). Yours truly had been volunteered to cook Shrimp Etouffée tomorrow evening so we all had an excursion to Teulada market to make a start on my ingredients list, which included spring onions. Chris had warned me about things which looked a lot like spring onions but which are, in fact, garlic sprouts. Spanish markets have great vegetable stalls, assuming that you don’t want spring onions, and I was in seventh heaven wandering up and down looking. Sure enough, there were long fine green and white things masquerading as spring onions. I sniffed them and couldn’t resist buying some. Surely these garlic sprouts would compliment large prawns very well. We returned calling in to a supermarket in Benissa for an unfeasibly large (2Kg) box of frozen prawns. All set for tomorrow.

Together with Chris & Yvonne, we had a date for a birthday lunch with a couple of other friends in the valley, Jim & Hazel. We were to meet them at 1:30 PM at the cooperativa in Parcent, just a few miles away up the valley. The place was heaving but we settled in and ordered our menu del día. I really don’t know how they do this: two courses including half a bottle of the local hooch and a cup of coffee for 7.00€. Do we know how to push the boat out or what? I was beginning to feel like a retired expat, quite large amounts of whom seem to spend a large amount of their week living like this. Still, it was most enjoyable and, as a birthday party, fitted the bill perfectly well.

The day was dry and fine, as advertized, and Carol and I finished off by walking off our extravagant lunch taking el perrito, Scamp, through the vineyards across to Lliber for a coffee – us that is, not Scamp; he doesn’t drink coffee. 🙂