Return to the Malva Rosa

Our trip ends as it began, on the beach at the Malva Rosa!


It was really amazing how we just flew from Jaen to Vaclencia and I actually enjoyed the drive. It could have something to do with the long, straight, empty autovia de Extremadura. It could have been giggling at Gamine the GPS squeaking with horror as I crossed apparently empty fields at 120km/h. This motorway has just been finished, and she did not know about a whole stretch of it. It could be that I am finally getting used to driving Crocodile, who, after all, gave me a lot to get used to: steering wheel on the wrong side, automatic, large, ... Anyhow, we reached the Malva Rosa with a whole afternoon in front of us. Finally, I was able to relax and draw plants! It has to be said that by the evening, Antonia was somehow so tired that she was literally falling over things! Hmmm, ...

Here are the swallows nesting in the Malva Rosa reception area:


I have to give the Malva Rosa campsite a special plug. It might not be quite true, as the lady at reception seems to believe, that everywere else has terrible weather and is simply not worth going to. But her belief that this is the best campsite in Spain may well be justified. Other campsites we went to were basically parking lots for caravans, and were only pleasant because they were empty, or nearly. The Malva Rosa is a sort of botanical paradise right on the beach. This, for example, is taken from the kids' play area:

It has a pretty nice bar/restaurant, and I think a number of facilities we didn't try. I would love to go back there. P.S. Although we just turned up, you probably need to book in high season.

Crocodile Camper and the Motorway Monkeys

It's hard to believe, when you're walking along a moonlit beach admiring faint constellations that you were in the noise and strife of a big city only the same morning. Antonia and I were both ready for some peace and quiet, and we have come that far, and it wasn't always easy. We started the day by exploring the local covered market in Barcelona. They sell rabbit, stripped to the bone (rabbits haven't much else) but with their eyeballs still in situ! hmmm! Our little rabbit hid in the bottom of Antonia's bag.

After more ultra sweet pastries, we got a taxi driven by what appeared to be a very large monk to our designated bus stop. It was supposed to be outside a sex shop. When I eventually found this place it turned out to be extremely small, discreet, and dare I say it, tasteful. But the bus stop outside it was being torn up by big burly workers. I found the new right bus stop, we did get out camper about half an hour late, but it has a crocodile on it so that was worth waiting for. It also has right-hand drive and is an automatic so it's a good job I got some practice in New Zealand.

We ignored our kind camper dispenser's suggestion to set the gps to avoid toll roads and belted south as fast as we could. Antonia is writing a book about dragons, or she was until I called on her to try to navigate. The fruit orchards are in blossom and Spain is looking greener than I think I have ever seen it, though many of the rivers are still dry. Even though Crocodile Camper has a tendency to want to drive at 130 km/h when the speed limit is 120, I soon decided that we were not going to make the originally intended first stop. In fact we are in a campsite near Valencia. We are parked within 5 seconds of the beach, it is warm and oasis-like, though a bit humid now it is night, and we have strawberries for breakfast.