Innocents Abroad…

My wife and I are married almost 43 years. Discounting Ireland, England, Scotland and Wales, we have never been on a holiday together.
My wife has now given up driving me round to take photographs of 712 post offices. I wont regret the ones I did not get. It was the infamous Glencar (Kerry) incident that made her say “enough is enough”.
So a few months ago we decided to plan a few days in the sun…go to Europe.
City Break or Beach?
Of course our children and grandchildren thru holidays and school trips know more about this kinda thing than we do.
Crete. Benidorm. Salou. Krakov. Rome. New York maybe. No not New York.

Of course we are far too old to “plan” anything. It was a committee effort.
My wife wanted a beach holiday.
I wanted a cheap holiday.

So Salou in Catalonia, about 100 kms from Barcelona was the destination. From 24th Sept-30th Sept. Six nights.
A hotel with two swimming pools and in the centre of Salou about six minutes (they said) from the beach.
But then it gets complicated.
Flights….well the economic way was to fly to Barcelona and fly back from Reus.
Insurance….young ones sorted that out.
Transfers……we had heard of transfers. But the young ones sorted it out. A coach from Barcelona to the hotel in Salou.
And a private taxi from Salou to Reus.
And then there’s money. There is a choice of two fancy cards. The kids say its perfectly safe. Transfer money from our bank to two cards and use them abroad. There are two cards, one “M” and one “R” and we choose two R cards.
But really we don’t like that idea.
Sneakily we also take cash. Don’t tell the kids.

And then there’s the mobile phones. My wife’s phone is ok. She has been abroad with her sister. And I will sort out my mobile.
“Are you sure you can do that Granda?”
“I am not totally helpless”, I say.
The man in the phone shop gives me a piece of paper with a number to phone a few hours before we travel and it will all be sorted.
Simple.

So my grandson leaves us to Aldergrove and insists on coming into terminal and we are kinda pleased.
We are thru check in, baggage, security within 20 minutes.
We should have made more of the assistance for my wifes mobility issues. But no big deal.
Breakfast.
We have one between us. Too expensive. And a robot brings our food.

The flight is great. Truly breath-taking to look down on the Pyrenees, the mountain trails, the isolated villages, the larger villages, the coast, the ocean and landing in Barcelona.
Two hours 20 minutes.
There are only two Easy Jets at the terminal and the other one is from Cardiff. This terminal is cosy and we clear passport control.
We are met by a rep from the “transfer” company and she tells us it will be half an hour before coach leaves.
The coach is full….a lot of retired Welsh people who all seem to know each other. We are the youngest on the coach.

It takes an hour and a half to get to Salou.
But our journey is not even half over.
Couples and groups are left at a total of eleven hotels and tracking our journey, we are 12 minutes from our hotel, then we are 11, 15, 13, 10, 6, 4, 7, 3, 9………the coach journey is a zig zag round the resort.
Eventually we get there,
The hotel is thankfully central.
But the plane journey is 2 hours 20 minutes.
The coach journey is 3 hours 25 minutes.

The hotel is nice, Big restaurant. Room is small. It is in the basement. Nice balcony. And a gekko……never seen one before.
The swimming pools are both small but as neither of us can actually swim, it is ok.

We will explore Salou and get something to eat.
The main street is about 200 metres away. A small traffic island with a police car on station.
There is a pedestrianised street that goes right and left and we turn left in the direction of the beach.
The street is diners, souvenir shops, better clothes shops. We have an ok meal (lamb and mint sauce) in an English owned place and its ok but one or two pigeons walk in.
I do not like the whole al fresco eating. As I said to my wife on our last night………”I really like doors and windows”.

We went down to the beach. Sports shops sell football and GAA and Kneecap gear. More al fresco diners and guys trying to get us to eat. Two classes of souvenir shop. Those selling casnanets, wooden boats and lighthouses, ornamental dolphins, turtles, gekkos, fridge magnets. Also toys. And the nice shops seem locally owned. Then there was tacky shops, strangely all the same layout and staffed by non locals…tshirts with disgusting slogans “I heart…”, shot glasses, novelty condoms.

All souvenirs seemed to be aimed at English speakers. As we buy coasters “I love my cat” and “I love my labrador”, my wife notes that German and French people must not like cats and labradors.

I have never watched Benidorm. But I know there is a running gag about an old lady and a mobility scooter. So Life imitates Art. And the mobility scooters are a common sight. In fact there are some we see coming and say “here come the double deckers”….tandem mobility scooters with driver and pillion passenger. “You’d look sweet upon the seat of a mobility scooter built for two”.

The girl in the internationally known fast food joint is churlish. Is that a thing with Spanish/Catalans. There is certainly no “banter” with them. My wife chides me that I am not as hilarious as I think I am.
There are pubs but we are both tea total so no point in going into the Red Lion or Last Orders, Robin Hood which are home from home for English folks. Or Shankly’s (you’ll never drink alone), The Blue Nose (WATP), Flower of Scotland, home from home for Liverpool fans, Rangers fans and Scottish fans. And then there is Danny Boys, Temple Bar, Patricks, The Harp and Molly Malones.

Maybe along the coast, there are upmarket resorts. Salou seems working class, A fairly even spread of retirees, young families and teenagers. At night there was some boisterous behaviour but nothing that we saw could be called loutish.

The beach is wonderful and the eateries and souvenir places are not so tacky. At the far end of the beach is a small port and beyond that the real town of Salou where real people live, shop, work, go to school and church.

The church is lovely. Our Lady of the Sea. An African priest and a woman (a woman!!!) on the altar. Two giant screens show the text of the service but I cant see it properly (I am guessing it is Spanish and Catalan).

Oddly there is no Holy Water (Covid restrictions) but the congregation enthusiastically shakes hands and hugs as we offer a sign of “pax”, “peace”, “siocháin” and its nice to say “ár n-atháir” in a different part of the world.

My wife spends 34 euros in the church souvenir shop.

Jack is from India and stands outside an Indian restaurant. He speaks some Irish. I am so impressed that we agree to eat there one night. It is really good but expensive. That night on the phone my son says that “they” all speak Irish Or German. Or Dutch. It is part of the sales pitch. Surely that is cynical.

Later in week, Jack was speaking Swedish. He is a people person.

We are in the hotel on bed and breakfast terms but have lunch and dinner there on five or six occasions.

Breakfast ….well pancakes and omelettes and eggs are cooked before our eyes and there are maybe five or six counters for, cereals, fruit, bread, sliced cheese, cold meats and hot food. Each dish is labelled in five or six languages, including Russian. Note to self…do not even think about a big chunk of Paté again.

Dinner…..same formula. A lot of fish dishes. And nice desserts.

The meals cost 15 euros each, very reasonable and drinks are extra, usually water and Pepsi at about 7 euros. The Restaurant manager is a nasty piece of work. We have an orange ticket with our room number and he takes our 30 euros. But as I tried to pay for the drinks one night, the fancy “R” card did not work and the wee slabber arrested me until my wife came back to reclaim and pay a ransom.

Entertainment ……..9.30pm-11pm the hotel bar had music. Mostly sing-a-long type in Spanish and English. Sunday night was line dancing and the hotel is obviously the venue for the local line dancing club. Monday is karaoke and you book your place by entering a QR code and again it was locals who were dominating things……and pretty good. Alas my wife never got to do “Take Me Home Country Roads”.

Last night………midnight walk on the beach.

It was great. I never thought I was the kinda person who would enjoy enjoying myself.

I will write about excursions to Barcelona, Tarragona and Reus.

Retired man with a smartpass on public transport. Husband/Father/Grandfather. Celtic FC and Manchester United FC. Occasional SDLP member but they cant stand the sight of me. Hypocrite who despises Hypocrisy. Gets along with eveybody except LetsGetAlongerists. Wary of Conflict Resolution.