We’ve driven past Zaragoza many times as we made our way to and from Casa Libélula. This is the first time we have actually stayed there. We were very favourably impressed with the municipal campsite at Zaragoza; it was spacious, especially for a Spanish campsite, well signed and easily accessible. The shower block was very warm, though the water tended to slow down when turned around to hot enough. Nonetheless, it worked well.
I made an interesting beer discovery. The local brew – local to Zaragoza, that is – is Ambar, and very good it was, too. Their regular lager was tasty enough but they also brew an “export” at 7% ABV which is well worth drinking.
In the morning we awoke to the sound of some Christmas carols coming, we think, from a local school. Very festive and not too disturbing. We prepared ourselves in a leisurely fashion and hit the road at about 09:30 for the second stage of our journey down to Alcalalí, a journey of almost 450kms which would take us about five hours.
Once you get on the motorway leaving Zaragoza, it’s a straight shot to the autopista de Mediterraneo on the coast, then down to Valencia. Driving in Spain on the motorways is a dream, traffic is light and the surfaces are generally good; you basically set the cruise control and keep going. It used to be necessary to slow down for toll booths but now the motorways south of Zaragoza are all free there’s no need for that anymore on this stretch. Much of the traffic is trucks, though, so you do have to watch the rear view mirror to pull out and pass those.
We broke our journey for lunch at Barracas, where there is an intriguingly named “Lady Bar” beside the café/restaurant. [Best not to dwell on that.] Barracas is a popular stop with the truck drivers; maybe even more popular at night given that Lady Bar. The coffee and tapas are good for lunch, though.
The journey had been plain sailing with little traffic until we approached Valencia, where the traffic increased noticeably. It was still plain sailing, just quite a bit busier. The traffic thinned out again south of Valencia for our final hour’s driving to Alcalalí..
To us, this stretch of motorway feels like coming home, as familiar with it as we are. Arriving at Alcalalí, we were welcomed by Susana, Octavio Ferrer’s delightful wife, Octavio being the proprietor and retired toreador. Frodo found himself a delightful pitch looking up at the Col de Rates and got settled. If we get any afternoon sun, Frodo’s lounge will benefit from it.
As we relaxed outside Frodo in today’s afternoon sun, we were surprised to hear and see House Martins feeding overhead. House Martins in Spain in the middle of December? Shouldn’t they be back in Africa, now? Resorting to good ol’ Google, it seems that there are House Martins that do not cross back into Africa but choose to overwinter in the more southerly parts of the Iberian peninsular and Mediterranean basin.
Live and learn.
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