When you're away from home as much as we are, it's no surprise that we've slept through a full range of accommodation experiences. Some good, others less so. I don't know what it is about Spain, or more particularly, Spain at New Year, but of the three trips I've had here over the years, during the festive period, all have involved some sort of accommodation drama; this year has been no exception. Easy to look back on now on a relaxing walk across a deserted beach, but not at the time....
The first Spanish New Year experience was many years ago at Siurana - an excellent rock climbing venue in North-East Spain. Having returned from a fine day on the cliffs to our less than salubrious Hostel, we found that the New Years' eve party was already in full flow in the bar. Upstairs, however, things were not so cheery, as we discovered that our bags had been moved from our room and into the dirty corridor. I still to this day don't exactly know the reason, but the gist seemed to be that the owner had re-let the room to a bigger group who had just turned up during the day and were willing to pay more than us for the room. This was pre-google days and unable to converse in Spanish, we were out on the streets with no bed for the night.
We returned back to the climbing area, where there were some climbers camped up by the Refugio. By chance, we'd met a friend of a friend at the crag a few days before, who said he was staying there. On arrival, the guardian made an apologetic face and shrugged her shoulders as the Refugio was already full. By now it was dark and very cold, but we were saved from a homeless New Years' Eve, by Rob (the friend of a friend), who did some negotiating on our behalf. We were stood on the porch considering our limited options when the guardian returned holding two karrimats and gestured that there was room for us to sleep - on the floor underneath the big bunk beds in the dormitory! It seemed like pure luxury compared to the cold cramped interior of our hired Fiat 500.
Episode two was about 5 years ago in Tenerife when we were first dabbling with AirBnB. On arrival at our apartment in a remote farmstead on New Years Eve, we found a party of old folk in full flow in the courtyard. After some confusion about who we were and who was the owner, the lady in question denied all knowledge of our booking - even though I was holding a print out of a confirmation email sent from her, with her photo in the top right corner! It wasn't really worth arguing much though, as the place was filthy and generally pretty gross, so we got out of there as fast as we could - but not before asking for a recommendation of another local place to stay. A sketch map was drawn and we beat a retreat from the strange little compound that we'd unwittingly booked into (or not).
Arriving at the suggested apartment block, all was locked and deserted, except a beer drinking man on the upper balcony. He was German, so using my best schoolboy language skills, (Miss Walsh would have been proud), I explained our plight. Before we knew it, the man was on his phone making some calls. Ten minutes later the owner arrived with a key. The place was not ready for guests, but by now, further inquisitive neighbours had arrived and set about helping us out. Someone provided bedsheets and set about making the bed, another lady got the tv working and went to great lengths to show us how to choose a channel, while another produced oranges and lemons in a bowl for us along with fresh towels. Such kindness, with very little shared language!
This year, the now traditional Spanish New Years faff, began at this apartment in Barbate. The photos were as promised, and as I've previously mentioned, the view was great. However, the listing neglected to mention that the balcony is above the main area of bars and clubs on the promenade. Below us, hundreds of happy Spaniards were congregated, drinking, singing and trying to chat over the thumping music that was blaring from each bar. Even with the windows shut and the blinds down, the noise was so loud that we couldn't hear the music from our own stereo! We booked a new apartment that night and checked out in the morning. To be fair, the music did stop and things did quieten down when the bars closed up, but this wasn't until 03:40am. We'd decided that we'd just have to take the hit, move on and pay for the new place. However, in the morning, AirBnB came good for us, with some excellent customer service. A guy called John phoned to say that he was sorry to hear we were having a bad time, so would confirm our next booking and refund us our money from this place. He then went the extra mile and said that it was going to take about half an hour to contact the new host and sort things with the current one, so recommended that we pack up, go and buy brunch in a nice cafe (on AirBnB) and relax while he took care of things. So we did (pic above).
Then, as promised, the new pad was confirmed, monies refunded and a time set to pick up the new key. Incredible service. The new place is a short drive away and much closer to the climbing as well as Tarifa, where we hoped to surf, so better in every way. And very quiet and cheaper too! It's a really old village and full of friendly locals. When I say old, I mean it - this was the traffic situation when we arrived!
Once all the drama had been resolved, we took ourselves off to sample some of the nearby climbing. It was brilliant! The routes were a bit short, but the rock and bolts were excellent and all in the sun. Hoorah!
The rock type here is different - a type of Sandstone. It felt similar to the gritstone of the Peak District, just much warmer and with bolted protection! Maybe it was just that we needed to get used to the new style of climbing - lots of under clings and smears for your feet - but I felt the grades were also a bit harsh? It was all super enjoyable though and a world away from the morning's drama.
The bolts were all shiny and new, but there were still traces of older times - I found an old screw placed into one crack!
The climbs were all great and the views extensive - the hassle of the morning had faded away and could now be laughed about.
From the top of the cliffs, we could see Morocco in the distance across the Straits of Gibraltar.
In the evening, we walked up into the village and got some fruit and veg from a very friendly old lady in the village shop. She had a cash box, not a till and added all the items up by hand using a pen a paper. What with the mule riders and robed villagers from earlier, it felt like another era entirely.
However, some of the 'old desert/bible' dress code was explained later, when we chanced upon the village fete - a full-scale nativity play was on, complete with live animals, three splendidly attired Kings and Mary and Joseph in the Stables. There was singing, dancing, guitars, local foods, and a really lovely community feel - it couldn't be more contrasting from the blank faces of the coast this morning.
We slept very, very well.....
San Bartolo - Zona de Arriba - Sector El Cancho:
- Rianxeira hey, 6a
- Variante Rianxeira, 4c**
- Pinky Route, 5a***
- Dulce Belen, 5c
- Tripitite, 5c**
No comments:
Post a Comment