Krakow
In the late 70’s I was on a flight from Bangkok to London on LOT, Polish Airlines. Every time the plane took off or landed, all the doors in the overhead lockers would fly open, the plane was shaking so much. On the decent to Warsaw it seemed worst of all, after the wheels touched down, there was an eruption in the cabin as every one cheered and applauded. The captain must have felt like he’d slain a fire breathing dragon…. Phew! made it!!… It was still a communist country back then, so when the plane couldn’t take off again for three days, because of bad weather, I got stuck in no mans land in the transit lounge, not being able to venture out onto the street without a visa….Now 30 odd years later, I was heading back to Poland!
Ms M was in Krakow and we arranged to meet in Warsaw for a few day’s before I went off to England to see how Mum was getting on. Before I left Bali I stubbed my toes, a regular occurrence for this bare footed nomad, this time though, I’d dragged along a couple of grains of Bali sand with me. After a huge walk around the streets of Warsaw, I woke up the next morning with a pain in my groin and a throbbing foot which, when checked, was oozing yellow puss and twice the size it should be, the infection was moving up my leg and anti biotic was a must. Nurse Magda dragged me off to the Medico. The doc we saw, growled at us on entry, got very defensive when asked questions, and wasn’t happy when Magda translated for me, all I wanted was a few anti biotic but this old style god of medicine wasn’t going to allow that until I got X rays and a tetanus shot. I found it all very amusing. Doctors in Poland are obviously not to be questioned, god has spoken! had to laugh at the huge smiley badge on the lapel of his white coat while his face was as long as an Elephants trunk. I spent the next three days with foot up not moving much from the hostel…. no hardship… Warsaw is cold and grey with very little character, just a shame I didn’t get to discover more of the country. After three days, the anti biotic kicked in and I was beginning to walk easier. All of Poland was walking around in big furry boots, I must have looked very English in my socks and scandals. A four hour bus trip to Krakow, where my flight to Geordieland was going from, enabled me to at least get an idea of where I was and Krakow was very different from Warsaw, with a much warmer feel and loads of character, only had one night there but vowed to come again one day. After my two experiences with Warsaw, I will give it a miss next time.
Newcastle
Back in Geordieland, not much change. After three weeks, I was 3 kilo’s heavier. Lots of beer, Yorkshire puddings, mince and dumplings, chocolate and biscuits. Ran into some old faces and reminisced about times gone by and the mischief we used to get up to. It was cold though and my bad foot was itchin’, the road was calling, Magda was back in Barcelona twiddling her thumbs, waiting to start a new Job in a month, seemed like a good time to check out Spain.
I arrived in Barcelona and was greeted by my nurse, travel guide, translator and good friend Ms Magda, we picked up the Fiat Panda dinky car and headed south. The first roundabout I came to I almost got us wiped out. Every roundabout I came to for the next couple of days, the voice in my head cried out, look left, drive right….look left, drive right!!! First night was spent in Tarragona, about an hour, south of Barcelona. I’d come expecting sunshine and warmth, that’s what I’d ordered but it was a bit early in the year and my blue velvet jacket, a very 70’s little number, that I thought would show these continentals how suave we Aussie’s could be, just wasn’t up to the task of keeping me warm. Magda was better prepared and lent me her Brando Leather for the remainder of the trip, fantastic! it could have been made to measure. In Tarragona we sampled the delights of Catalonian cuisine at a buffet with a number of dishes to awaken my taste buds. The following morning we were off, no itinerary, no idea were we might go, just head south and see where the road takes us. I was trying to avoid the toll roads, we weren’t in a hurry. I managed to stay on the coast for a while but somewhere around Valencia I took the wrong exit off a roundabout and ended up on a road inland and decided to keep going, spent the night in a small town where we were able to get cheap accommodation, thanks to my Spanish speaking friend (must learn some Spanish). Sampled the typical breakfast of tostada (toast) soaked in olive oil topped with mushed up tomatoes and a sprinkle of salt, I got used to it in the end but not my usual morning fare. The detour meant We’d missed the Costa Blanca, maybe on the way back?
El Toro
Spain has good roads and not too much traffic, we headed back to the coast towards Alicante, lots of limestone hills and every now and again, El Toro would look down on us from above. Not sure of the significance of this but all over Spain, they stick a huge black bull on the hill top? The Panda was doing a great job but every now and again I’d be thinking how nice it would be to have Henrietta here, even started wondering about getting her shipped over. The countryside reminded me of spaghetti westerns, I could see Clint riding passed with his mean look, poncho, with cigar clenched in his teeth. We stayed in San Javier, that night, I had a pocket full of Pound notes but so far, was unable to change into Euro’s. I am used to being able to change money easily but here, even the banks don’t do it. San Javier has an International Airport, so first stop in the morning was to change money at the airport, no good, not even an ATM??….. “lend me another ton Magda”!!!
Had a couple of nights in a little fishing village, with a room overlooking the plaza and the Mediterranean, watching the slow moving locals gathering in groups passing the time of day. It was getting warmer but the wind was still a bit fresh. Onward to the Costa Del Sol and Andalusia, so far It had been very much a Spanish experience. Whollop! Malaga. For the next 10 /20 klm it was high-rise apartment blocks, big hotels, tourist heaven, the up side was, there were places to change money, I changed everything I had, coz hopefully this would end. We hit Torremolinos and decided to go inland, maybe we could find a place in the hills, not so manic, we did, a fantastic little place with cobbled paths, narrow streets, brilliant views but nowhere to stay. That was the first night we had trouble finding a good place to stay, back to Torremolinos, turn right, through Marbella, keep going, keep going, neither one of us felt like hanging around here. The sun was setting, that’s late in Spain, around Estepona we began to feel we were coming out of it and settled for a hostel on the main road overlooking an oil refinery spewing out smoke. Ah! this is better. Thought about nipping over to Gibraltar to visit the Apes but just gave it a wave as we were passing and carried on to Tarifa, “I like this, lets hang around a bit.
Tarifa
Tarifa is the southern most point of Europe, as soon as we rolled into town, we knew we’d stay here awhile. It is a mecca for wind surfers but today, no wind and warm, we found the perfect place to stay, with a roof top terrace over looking the port and old town. I spent lots of time on that terrace, looking out over to Africa watching the ferries coming and going, dreaming of another trip, was thinking maybe skirting the top, east from Morocco until I looked at the map and discovered I’d be going through Algeria, Libya and Egypt, to hell with that! On to Cadiz, inland to Seville, the landscape was changing, green rolling hills, olive trees, grape vines and beautiful Andalusian horses prancing around in the fields. There was a rally in Seville, a bit different from the bike rally in South Dakota, The carriages were magnificent, the horses majestic, the costumes elegant, the traffic, because of the rally, was horrific, which caused us to drive around in circles for hours trying to find the hostel. Later that day we were walking past the bull ring, gates were open, so we wandered in. The dead bull was being towed by a tractor out of the ring, the matador was bowing, the crowd was cheering, real hero’s I thought, slowly torturing a half dead bull. On to Granada, as we got close, the snow capped mountains surprised us a bit, maybe we can get some skiing in? In Granada no need to have dinner, order a beer, and out comes the tapas, on to the next place, beer and free tapas, we had a few beers that night, at a few different places!!
Headed east, via Murcia to Alicante, and up the Costa Blanca, A fantastic road, I was dreaming of Henrietta again, following the coast, north to Barcelona. Rock FM was blasting, Steppenwolf, Get your motor running, heading on the highway, looking for adventure and what ever comes my way. Through the many tunnels carved into the limestone rock, the sun was shining, Ah! life’s good. Got to the top of a hill and there in front of us, Fuck Me, New York City, no! Benidorm!!!! OK, keep going, Keep going. We wanted somewhere to spend a couple of days, it was all coming to an end, a memorable journey, Barcelona was drawing near, we found it. Pensacola, a couple of hours south of Barcelona, found a room with balcony in the old town with narrow cobbled streets, overlooking everything, including two beautiful beaches. This’ll do.
I am…. THE (not so) LONESOME TRAVELLER…. the journey Continues….BE HAPPY!