Welcome to Morocco
We spent the first few days in Morocco with Linda going cold Turkey after steadily working her way through Gibraltars duty free Margheritas so didn’t actually get to do much. We didmanage to get out for a short ride along the lovely promenade seafront at Martil to much laughter and pointing at the tandem. But once Linda had mastered the shakes we moved on and headed south towards Fez. Morocco is a building site, with construction everywhere, plenty of new roads being built and everywhere we passed on the coast new apartment blocks and hotels – even a Ritz Carlton going up. In...
Read MoreGoing Ape!
We got our money from Nat West as Barclays ATM was out of order and popped into M&S to see if they had any Cornish crackler, they didn’t so we went to Morrisons to get cheddar, passing numerous vans advertising Strongbow, John Smiths, McVities and Walkers crisps, sent a couple of post cards from a the Royal Mail Post Office, avoided all the cafes selling Bacon and Eggs and British Fish and Chips, made sure we said ‘Gor Blimey Govnor’ a lot and asked a British Bobby what the time was. Welcome to Gibraltar, a little England in a sea of Spain. This is a weird but...
Read MoreGrenade!!
Spain and Britain share the same attitude to firework safety as each other. Both countries have festivals where fireworks play key roles and both have an age restrictions for buying fireworks of 16. The difference is Spain mean months. Literally if you can walk, the n for one week in March you’ll be given limitless supplies of high explosive and a box of matches and told to go and scare the crap out of the tourists! And these aren’t ordinary fireworks either. No pretty ones, no aaaahhhh, just lots of noise and a lot of smoke. These aren’t so much you’re normal UK...
Read MoreLet’s enter the marathon….
We left Barcelona on a Sunday morning – they’ll be no cars on the road we said and how right we were. Instead there were thousands of people doing the marathon and the roads had been closed in some very devious Mobious strip like affair where we just kept ending up back at the same place. Clever but very frustrating. We even considered just going back to Stalag 14 but for some reason we could no longer get there from here. The runners were only outnumbered by spectators and in turn by Police who weren’t standing on street corners as the corners just wern’t big enough...
Read MoreWe’re not cycling up there…
Having said goodbye to Ozzie the drug dog who has now swapped the wacky Barky habit for Champagne tasting in France, we moved on to Barcelona, the crime capital of Europe, if not the world and for that matter probably the solar system too. We took no chances and stayed at Stalag 14, a guarded car park with walls so high a pole voter on stilts wouldn’t have a hope of scaling them. On the plus side it was right on the cycle routes and close enough to the centre of the city for us to roll home “Sangria’d up” late at night. Barcelona is now one of the best cities to...
Read MoreA Twittering Drug dog…
We were planning on only spending a couple of days in Palamos, but having met a dog with a drug habit and twitter account we found ourselves staying longer. Ozwena – a rather independently minded beagle – had got friendly with the local dealer and one night decided when his owners were having a swift pint, would leg it to see if he could get his paws on something a little more interesting than PAL to eat. He was gone for the night and was returned the next day by the local dealer – who apparently looked high as a kite – having had a marvelous time gorging himself on...
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