Being Home and New Van!...

I always look forward to being home...

Yes its exciting, stimulating, adventurous and never boring cruising around in a van or catching fresh powder every day. But theres nothing like coming home to family, friends and your favourite curry house.

We took the shorter and more direct Dieppe to Newhaven ferry back Saturday morning and was in Horsham by 10:30. Kerry's parents were there when we got back and we all had a hug.

Breakfast in the sun

We normally spend every evening seeing a different person, group of friends or family, and this time round was no different. We double booked on more than one occasion but over the few weeks we have been back we have seen pretty much everyone

.

We have also moved on the van. Whilst we were traveling round we identified some very certain requirements for any future van. And with winter looming (yet still months away) we decided to get a new one.

Its based on the same Ford Transit base but from a model before the blue smartie van. Its got all the systems and amenities we think we need. Running water for start is very nice, double glazing to keep in the heat from the gas fired blown air heating and a gas boiler for hot water and a shower.

New van with a bit more insulation

Electrically it has a 240 and 12 volt system running from a 100aH battery. The split charge relay is already wired in to the ignition and the radio actually has an antenna! (Unlike ole bluey). The fridge in the van can run on 12, 240 volt and gas. I intend on buying a butane gas bottle that can be filled up with LPG at some fuel stations. This combats the difficulty in finding replacement compatible bottles ok the continent.

We have been living in it for the past 2 weeks outside Kerry's parents house and it's very comfortable. 

We decided we definitely needed a fixed bed and preferably out of the way so we don't have to make up a bed each time we stop. This van has quite a claustrophobic double bed over the cab. There is about 2 foot of space from mattress to ceiling, and I must admit I've woke up in the night freaking out and ended up on the sofa below. Hopefully with time I will get used to it.

Food challenge that I failed at!

The engine sounds good and its got quite a bit of service history with half the amount of miles of the blue van. I shall have to give it a service mechanically soon though for peace of mind.

We also discussed and decided to invest in a proper bicycle rack for any new van. £150 from Halfords and its doing the job at the moment. It will be nice to be able to leave the van and cycle off on adventures as it's normally pretty difficult to get a parking space in towns and public transport can be expensive/confusing abroad.

The blue van has gone up on eBay and I'm sure it should sell what with the work I did to it and the glorious British summer we are enjoying.

We are headed 'Up North' to County Durham in a few days for Kerry's Dad's 50th Birthday. A new 120W solar panel has just been delivered for the new truck so we should never have to plug in to 'shore power'. Hopefully I will get the time to fit and install the panel before our 3rd Festival of the year... Global Gathering

First camp out with the van and good friends

Parc Asterix...

Kerry and I love Theme Parks...

If there's ever a chance to go to our local theme park, Thorpe Park in Surrey,  we are there. We even seriously considered buying a season pass at one point.

I'd done a little research on google and found some interesting places dotted around France. Futuristic science type setups, numerous water parks and of course Disneyland Paris.

It was only last week when Dad mentioned he had gone straight through Paris, causing havoc on the 'Periferique' that I remembered Paris' other themed world, Parc Asterix.

Entrance road at Parc Asterix

After a few very long days driving up the 'Autoroute de Soleil' from South to North we finally pulled in to the parc. Not before having a tour of Charles de Gaule airport and its spectacularly confusing one way systems.

Pulling in to the car park of the onsite hotel, we hunkered down to an evening reading books and listening to the last riders on the attractions. Screaming and hollering as they embraced the G's! Tomorrow that would be us!!

Getting in was a touch more expensive than I'd thought. There was an offer on the French website that said under 25's got in half price. That's only if you order it online though and we had to stump up the full 40 Euro's each. :(

Asterix atop the mountain at the middle of the park

It was well worth it once inside. The park is based on Asterix and Obelix, two cartoon characters that I remember watching as a kid. As per the cartoon where the characters travel around the world and through time to ancient civilizations, the park was split up in to Egyptian, Roman and Greek as well as Asterix's native caveman like village and a sort of steampunk section with mad inventions.

We ran around the park all day like little kids again. Every big ride was conquered at least once and there were some interesting rides from individual manufacturers and the main players including a new coaster by Bollinger and Mabillard called Ozlris.

The map had a timetable on the back for a range of performances, both spontaneous street performances and more tradition stage affairs. We took time out of running round like headless chickens and waiting in line for the Roman rendition of the call to arms. Once inside the Colosseum shaped and themed auditorium the show quickly started. Whilst the speaking parts were all in French it wasn't hard to get the jist of of the action. It was a mix of slapstick comedy mixed with some very good gymnastics and then later flying around on wires as if free falling from an airplane.

Massive looper called Gouduriiix

Kerry was desperate to see the on-site dolphin show. This can get us in to a touchy subject. We have both watched the 2010 Best Documentary Award winning documentary 'The Cove' on more than one occasion. Each time we are shocked and disturbed by the portrayal of mass Dolphin slaughter and capture around a particular cove in Taiji, Japan. Anyone who hasn't seen it, should. It really is a good film and sheds light on some wrong doings by both local fishermen as well as massive corruption and cohesion between states and countries at Government level.

Consequently I am reluctant to support an industry on which my opinion can be swayed in just an hour and a half film. I have seen these shows. I have watched the original 'Shamu' the killer whale in America, jump and splash the audience. I was very young then, and yes it was spectacular. But I am older now and have read about her being withdrawn from performances after grabbing and refusing to let go of a female performers leg. I don't believe these animals can be happy in these environments, even after every consideration by the keepers is made. Let alone the terrible capture process.

But Kerry hasn't before seen these shows and was, rightly, intrigued by its content. We watched the show and I'm not sure Kerry was too amazed. I'm sure she will write about it over at her blog.

Obelix actor larking around

The best show by far was inside another big concert type hall that faced a huuuge Hollywood style harbour scene. There was ambient noise playing of seagulls and other sounds associated with docks. One guy strolled around with a painters ladder and bucket whistling. This was all as the audience were filling in to their seats, but once the last had sat down the scene started to unravel in to an elaborate story of 3 robbers plight to steal the Mona Lisa from the local constabulary in 1920's France. The story had no speaking part and the action was amazing, incorporating motorcycles, classic cars, explosions, high wire acrobatics and slapstick humor that pleases everyone of the audience.

We were utterly knackered at the end of the day. Parc Asterix is a must see if your anywhere near the North-East of Paris. It's well worth the money. I think what makes Parc Asterix what it is is the themeing. It is everywhere, and so immersive. Everything is thought about, music, actors, buildings ... everything.

Go ... It's good 

Trying to explain to Asterix I can't speak French

St Tropez and dirty bikers...

I'm undecided by the French autovia's and their tolls.

Yes their roads are well looked after. And yes there seems to be considerably less traffic. But take a wrong turning or not notice a 'peage' sign and you could be in to a 100 mile one way journey across country with no where to pull off, and a large toll bill at the end! Today we traveled 300 miles from Carcassonne to St Tropez and were charged a total of 35 Euros for the pleasure of using the motorways.

I think the British system of taxing vehicles annually is much better.

We were on our way to meet my Dad on one of his many sporadic, unplanned motorcycle rides across/through/around Europe.

High ratio maps - Good for getting to a town, not for a specific campsite!

Driving over the mountains that line the coast near St Tropez we received a text message:

'GPS broke in Lyon. Used map. At St Tropez but cant find campsite'

Turns out his map was a 200,000:1 ratio and the whole of St Tropez was a dot the size of a pin head!

After a bit of direction finding using local features... namely the sea, we watched Dad ride in the campsite entrance minutes after we did.

"20 hours of non-stop riding from Calais to St Tropez" (we'd never hear the end of this!)

View from our dinner table

We'd been told of a large campsite just down the road from St Tropez called Camping Prairies de la Mer in the Port of Grimaud. It turned out to be the perfect location to chill for a few days.

Kerry and I are normally rather conservative with our food, opting to eat cheaper food in favor of a good night out, seeing a particular sight etc, all within budget. Not so when Dad arrived!

It felt like we ate like kings. At lunch we'd grab a huge baguette, some salami, cheese, fresh tomatoes, crisps, cold beer ... It was awesome!

Dad treated us to a very nice meal in one of the 4 on-site restaurants along the campsite's private beach. I'd like to remember what it was I ate but I'm ashamed to say the cold beer and white wine had been flowing since lunch as we chatted and Dad got down his St Tropez (for real though girls!) base layer tan.

Setting off on our own biking tour

Dad clearly demonstrated his dependence on the daily grind the next morning, bumping in to the van and making progressively louder noises outside to 'gently' wake us up at 10am.

And I'm glad I was woken up! eggs, sausage and bacon were laid out on the table ready to be cooked up and thrown in to a crusty roll, just like the road side cafes at home!

After a few days on Camping Prairies de la Mar we thought it better to move on to a cheaper campsite. Prairies de la Mar is a very good campsite. Perfect for families and it offers little hut type accommodation that can be rented. It's also smack bang on the beach and next to the Port of Grimaud which we enjoyed on a nice stroll. But we didn't need all of that. Just a spot in a field would do us.

So we sent out the scout on his bike to find us a different campsite. Kerry and I packed up the smurf mobile and left before the imposed checkout time of 12 Noon. We only drove for a few hundred metres when we came across a near deserted golden beach just up from the campsite beach. Dad was still scouting around on the more nimble bike until he text to say he'd found one. We met up and followed him to a very small but nearly empty campsite with everything we needed.

This was our home for another 2 days. Dad went out on a mission to the shops. Essential supplies. Well he turns up nearly 2 hours later with a BMW motorcycle loaded to the max with grates of beer, sausages, burgers, buns, potato salad, wine ... and a full on podium style barbecue to cook it all up on! It looked like a modern game of buckaroo!

20 hours and the temperature changes from 16 to 29 degrees ;)

And so commenced 2 days of more sumptuous food. We listened to music, played some Boule and I made a draughts set with some cardboard and the many beer bottle tops that were now lying around our camp.

Kerry was a much better match at the game than me. I had no chance of touching Dad. I think he used to be in the 'Draughts Academy' at school or something.

We'd organised to go our separate way the next day. Kerry and I had some matters to tend to in England within a week and Dad was still undecided as to whether to go West to friends in the Dordogne, or North-east to meet some friends in (the forecast rainy) Germany. Again Dad woke us up at 7:30 with a gentle "I'm off now Adds" through the van window. A big kiss and a cuddle later and Kerry and I were waving the bearded biker out of the campsite and off in to the unknown. I know Dads trips are dictated by the weather. He will have fun seeing his biker friends in the Dordogne.

Cité of Carcassonne...

Driving up from Spain in to France was quite a pivotal point in the trip. It signified the point in which we were no longer moving away from England, but were traveling back. Not immediately... but definately in that direction.

It also got pretty glum. We pulled in to a deserted ski resort in the Pyrenees. The place was beautiful, with a large lake in the bottom of the valley and huge mountains stretching for miles. On the road up we even went above the height we worked at in Sainte Foy, reaching 1800m.

Narbonne Gate of Carcassonne

We spoke with people from another van that pulled in. A large English motorhome that was only 2 years old. The owners kindly gave us a tour after we mentioned we were considering swapping the Blue Smurf for something a little more 'purpose built' with insulation, heating, running water, the basics to live. Quite whether their tour will do any good is another question. I doubt our budget could stretch to aa brand new van!

Entering through the draw bridge

Its also the first time I've worn a hoody since snowboarding :(

I read the leaflets we had been unconsciously hoarding whilst we drove down through the South of France and decided a bit of culture was in store for on the way up. Carcassonne is a large medieval settlement, strategically placed on the old Spanish/French border.

When we arrived it was all a bit crazy. There were cars and coaches and buses everywhere. But we fought our way through the crowds in search of the local Aire. When we eventually found it, on the edge on the main city, we parked up and wandered in to town. The first thing that you meet is the Narbonne Gate which is one of only 2 ways of getting in through the double layered, fortified walls that surround the city. Its very impressive and walking through the still operable draw gate system really brings home how much people didn't want other people coming in!

A few inquiries with the tourism office shed some light on the massive concert stage that was being erected next to the Aire. Carcassonne was to hold a festival of sorts, but a music festival, dotted around the city itself, outside on this massive stage and down in the more modern Ville Basse where the majority of the cities population lives. So it turns out we are camped right next to the largest stage! ALOT of classical was scheduled for most of the stages. It's a fitting place too, historical, architectural, and with a lot of old people walking around! But then we found a poster advertising the acts for the main stage. David Guetta was playing a set on the Friday night, and who were we to turn down a free dance to some electronic music?

Medieval streets inside the walls 

So it was set. We would take a few days to indulge in the history of Carcassonne, see the sights, taste the tastes... and then finish it all off with a bit of a party on Friday night. All in time for a trip to meet my Dad ... Somewhere. Quite where that was was undecided. The Dordogne... French Riviera... or even back down in Spain! It's kind of the way when my Dad takes a trip. When asked what he wanted he said "Sun and Son".

We got a guide book and did every walk, tour, experience going in Carcassonne. It's quite bizarre just how much the numerous different collections of people who lived there appeared to not like people. Even their own! The castle inside the walls is protected not only from the outside with the two huge walls, but also from the citizens inside by a system of moats, bridges and defendable embankments. Each wall is approximately 4 foot thick or thicker and separated by a road which circumnavigates the city. Inside the second wall and you are transported back in time. It appears nothing here has changed since... who knows when?!

There is a large Basilica, similar to the one we saw on Montserrat, but smaller and more ornate. Plenty of traditional Aude-Languedoc style restaurants to eat at and even a Michelin starred restaurant in a very posh looking hotel. I daren't think what a room cost to rent as the dinners were upwards of 180 Euro!

The main attraction is the castle, which is free for people under the age of 26. Inside tells the story and function of each different area and the numerous defense mechanisms built in to the design. A film showed the history of the cite and how it had been built upon over and over. A quick walk around the top of the inside most wall confirmed that. Everywhere you could see the different periods jumping out at you. From roman building techniques at the bottom, small stones laid sideways with the occasional red line of 'topping stones', to the more modern conservational buildings with bigger sandstone blocks.

View of inside the walls from on the walls

 We were treated to 2 evenings of music back at the van. One was an N-Dubz-esque rap group who's main slogan (that I understood) was Toute la Monde, toute la monde, toute la monde over and over and over again. (it means 'everyone' in a round about way. (Literally meaning 'all the world')) To be honest it was dire. But we met a cool French couple, Sandrine and Phillipe, who gave us some whiskey in exchange for wine and we partied on the bank of the vineyard next to the concert and our van.

Our perch for David Guetta's concert

A couple of nights later and we were all back up on the bank, partying to their legendary David Guetta. I'm not a massive fan but have seen him before at Creamfields and the set was amazing. This time around, however, wasn't as impressive. We danced and met Sandrine and Phillipe again with more of their friends.

Just as the music was winding down and everyone was leaving we noticed that the barriers on the Aire had been raised and were letting people come and go willy nilly.

This we saw as our chance. We'd been in the Aire for atleast 4 days now and at 1 Euro an hour had wracked up quite a big bill. So we took our chance and joined the crowds of cars leaving the parking area thinking we would just find a lay-by just outside and hit the road proper tomorrow. There was no lay-by and we ended up driving a few miles away from the city. Kerry picked another Aire from the book and we drove the 10 miles or so in the pitch black at 2am overshooting the aire on a small country lane. Then came the accident.

As I was completing my 3 point turn in the road to get back to the aire I reversed ever so slightly too far and our rear wheel just plopped off the edge of the road. Just enough for our front wheels to not have adequate weight on them to get traction.

A couple of hours and a few phone calls later and we were being towed out of the embarrassingly small ditch that our rear wheels were in. The money we saved escaping the aire was definately cancelled out by the tow truck charge... Karma.

Van break-in and Sonar Festival...

After a very relaxing day on the beach, one of my worst expectations was realised.

I didn't believe we'd been robbed straight away. I thought maybe they had been chased off, got disturbed or couldn't fit through the hole. Until I took the very large van vault lock off of the back doors and whitnessed the carnage inside.

There was stuff eveywhere. Every cupboard had been opened, every box up turned. In short, we'd been royally done over.

I gave Kerry a quick hug and then climbed inside to see what was missing. First thing that sprung to mind was the electronics. Laptop, netbooks and cameras were gone as expected, aswell as an external hard drive. Kerry checked her stuff and a make-up bag with hairstraighteners was missing.

I phoned the police who said we should drive to the nearest police station which was just a few miles away. I looked round the van but couldn't see any window. I expected a big pile of shattered glass but couldn't see anything. After a bit of investigation I spotted the 5 foot by 2 foot pane of glass sitting, intact, in a bush a few metres away, with its rubber trim coiled up next to it. We retrieved the window and put it in the back, driving cautiously with one window missing.

Our experience at the police station was not good. We were asked to fill in a form with our details which was photocopied and given back to us. We werent asked what had happened or what was taken. They said they'd call me if they found any of our stuff. I then asked how they knew what our stuff was when they hadn't asked and the ability to speak English was gone.

They didn't even come out to see our wounded van and we drove carefully to our favourite campsite, Tres Estrella to put the window in.

It's not so much the financial loss that annoys me. I can work hard and earn those things back, unlike the scum who took it from us. What feels really bad is the hard drive and the hours of snowboarding videos and photos from the winter and now the start of the summer.

Feast with Richard

It wasn't until a few days later that Kerry realised her Pandora charm bracelet had gone. She shed a little tear because she could remember who bought each charm and for what occasion. Again, the charms can be bought again, the memories not.

So now we have picked ourselves back up and are awaiting the arrival of Richard who had a huge delay to his flight thanks to French air traffic control being on strike.

After numerous text updates including 'If need be I'll drive down to Barcelona' and a good 8 hour delay kerry and I were driving aimlessly around the airport car park until Rich came ambling out of the terminal.

A quick stop at the supermarket and we were setup for the evening. Burgers, beers and best friends. We showed Rich around the Tres Estrellas campsite and before we knew it he was in the sea. We had a nice chilled evening and rolled Richard in to the tent we had erected for him at around 1am.

I woke rather late at 10am the next day to find Richard basking in the sun. We shot in to Barcelona on the bus and headed down through La Rambla to the Barri Gotic and George Orwell square for a tapas lunch and beers.

Richard had to meet his friends who were joining him for Sonar festival and we said our goodbyes and Kerry and I mooched around.

We had tickets to Sonar Night on the Friday with 1980's German electronica act, Kraftwerk headlining.

The festival was different to your usual big field and tents setup. This was in 5 big warehouses joined together with little outside stages. The sound was awesome though.

Whilst we meant to meet up with Rich we didnt catch a glimpse of each other all night! Probably due to us all throwing some mean shapes at different ends of the festival!

The music wrapped up with a set by Diplo at 7am and then came the aweful bus journey back to the campsite with all of Barcelona's commuters. All too familiar from our night at Razzmatazz...

First to arrive, last to leave ;)

A visit from the in-laws...

Mikes and Angie, Kerry's parents, were a little undecided on their summer holiday this year. They hadnt decided on a destination by the time we had left the UK but a few probing texts to Kerry's sister Amy a few weeks ago shed some light. They'd booked in for a week in Santa Suzanna on the Costa Brava coast 60 miles North of Barcelona.

After a peaceful day at Montserrat we made good time up to the resort wanting to arrive before them and host a surprise. We got in to the resort too late to find anywhere nice to hunker down and succumbed to a supermarket carpark just next to their all inclusive hotel.

To say I had the worst nights sleep would be an understatement! With cars driving over a nearby metal grate every few minutes and a full blown domestic argument by one pissed up English family at 3am right outside the van.

Mike and Ang were surprised and pleased to see us the next day after they'd settled in to their hotel. I was pleased to see them as well. Bar meeting a few felow campers on sights Kerry and I had spent nearly every minute of the past month together. It was refreshing to have new people to talk to.

On that afternoons walk to the beach we spotted a big piece of wasteland that was being used as a car park and decided that would be our new home for the week. Perfect location between the inlaws hotel and the beach.

Our days were spent lounging on the beach playing increasingly more competitive games of boule while supping cheap beers chilled in the sea.

At night we were treated to a few drinks in the local bars with the usual (but actually fairly good!) Cabaret acts. We introduced Mike and Ang to a card game called Shit-head. Ang seemed to get the hang of it pretty quick but Mike was struggling with the concept for a while! I think he will blame the beers and sangria!

Kerry and I promised to treat ourselves to a full English breakfast one morning after a good drink the night before. 3.50 euro for the works and coffee. Not bad at all!

On the final evening of Mike and Angies stay we played some more shithead and Mike even managed to win one! Whether by skill or fluke is a debated matter! They bought us a nice pair of raving sunglasses each that we had been eyeing up in the tourist shops and we squeezed in one last game of boule by moonlight.

The next day we said our goodbyes and were treated to a great big downpour and thunder storm that kept us in the van for a few hours. I could only imagine Mikes smiling face as he'd escaped the whole week with glorious sunshine.

Monestry of Montserrat...

Whilst perusing the various TripAdvisor posts and 'Best Picks' of Barcelona the usual attractions kept popping up. Segrada Familia, Badelona Beaches, Barri Gotic and of course the numerous museums dedicated to Gaudi, Picasso and Miro. But in between all the usual was this unusual sounding place, Montserrat.

Turns out Montserrat isn't in Barcelona, but an hours drive away inland. The various tours headed out that way were a bit pricey, but with the freedom of our van we couldn't resist going to have a look.

The word Montserrat became instantly clear as we drove along the auto-via headed West from Barcelona. Saw Mountain is a peculiar looking mountain with a silhouette of sharp teeth like a saw. It was strange because I'm accustomed to mountains being in a range. But this one, nope. Just smack bang in the middle of nowhere.

Montserrat in all its glory

After a few wrong turns and some VERY steep climbs that the Smurf Mobile struggled with, we finally reached the town of Monsterrat. A relatively small town dominated by the Basilica and clutched in between tall, column like rock formations. Millions of years ago this area was under a very large river bed. The mixed sedimentary rock that formed because of the river deposits was then eroded away over time leaving the harder rocks behind, giving the mountain its distinct serrated silhouette and weird, tubular rocks separated by tall thin channels.

The Basilica at Montserrat is basically a great big church that holds the image of the Virgin Mary. Legend has it that in the year 888 AD a group of children saw a bright light in the sky plunge in to the mountain. A week later the same event happened but this time the children's parents witnessed the spectacle. A search party was launched to find out what the light was/had done. An image of the Virgin Mary was found at the top of the mountain but all efforts to bring the relic down from the mountain was thwarted. Divine intervention. So it was decided that pilgrims would have to travel up the mountain to worship her.

Now I am in no way religious. I do, however, have a weird and encompassing fascination on all religions methods and especially their wealth.

Arriving at the Monestry shortly before 1pm we ran up to the basilica to catch a glimpse of the oldest Boy's Choir in the world. The place was heaving with people pushing and bustling to get in to the building. Big signs clearly stated that the use of flash photography was forbidden yet thousands of white pulses shot off every second as the boys started singing. There were too many people and Kerry and I had to leave for fear of being suffocated. The singing was nice but the fresh air when we got out was even nicer.

Whilst wandering around the fairly small town we noticed little paths leading off from the main square and up through a sculpted garden. Turns out there's a variety of walks ranging from a 20 minute stroll to an hour and a half hike to the top where the lady was found.

Not feeling very strenuous we opted for the shortest walk which took in 13 different Christ associated monument things. A nice walk.

We passed some time looking around but the town was just a few hotels and shops to accommodate the pilgrims. We were waiting for 6pm when there was due to be another rendition by the boys choir. We got in to the Basilica just before 6 and had to sit through an hour of Spanish preaching by one of the 100 Benedictine monks that live at the Monestry. Then out stroll the other 99 monks and start singing. It was't the boys choir but the senior choir! Well we didn't stay long. A bunch of old blokes singing. I want to hear cherub like boys.

So we made a hasty exit, only to notice that the 3 hour queue for the Virgin Mary had been reduced to nothing. We went through the side of he basilica and through some old corridors until we were upfront with the image herself.

Apparently you must touch the globe she is holding in her right hand whilst also holding out your right hand to receive her blessing. I didn't do that.

Being in Montserat was weird for me. In the middle of no-where there's a huge, weird shaped mountain with a small town and people praying to an image of the Virgin Mary. Which was really just a statue that someone made, not found. The whole thing sounds bizarre yet its happening, right now. I find it hard to understand religion, yet up here theres a whole industry about it and this statue.

By the time we walked back down the hill we were some of the last people remaining. Most of the tour busses and coaches had gone and it was nice and peaceful. What was going to be a 10 minute drive down to the bottom of the mountain soon turned in to an hour an a half trek to our next destination... Santa Suzanna, Costa Brava!

Fun in the sun in Barcelona...

Whilst getting up at 10am everyday and lounging on the beach in Gava is appealing, its nice to hit the city and  get some partying done.

My memory of Razzmatazz, a nightclub, was one of bright lights, loud music, getting lost and a 70 Euro McDonalds bill at 5 in the morning. So I was determined to go back for more debauchery!

Kerry was keen to go and see what all the hype was about and we caught the bus in to town late evening knowing that the Spaniards are usually waking up when us Brits are normally eating dinner. Everything seems to be 4 or 5 hours behind. The club only opens at 2am! 

We strolled around and indulged in some tasty Ice cream made in a 'laboratory' in the back with big glass windows so you could see it being made. I couldn't resist trying the Marijuana flavoured one which went well with pistachio and mint. It had a subtle but definitely weedy type taste. 

 We grabbed a few drinks before walking across town to the more industrial side and consequently Razzmatazz. Its basically 5 warehouses all joined together by overhead walkways and rooftop alleys. 

There were only 3 of the 5 warehouses open with DJs playing some interesting Euro-stomp type electro music in the main room. It was a quality night which If I'm honest I can't remember much of! It was only when we got out at 7am that we remembered the long walk back to the main square, Placa Catalunya, and had to sit on a 20 minute bus ride with that mornings commuters while we got groggier and groggier.

Finally getting back just before 9am we were grateful for our bed and collapsed in the van for the rest of the day.

One day whilst walking through the Parc de la Cuitadella we came across this type of festival with water activities for the kids, music on a stage and all sorts of Catalan traditions like 'giant' people made out of papier mache walking around and a group who were building a human tower.

Walking around the park we came across a group of 4 or 5 African guys playing on their native drums, just casually. Kerry and I sat down on the grass to listen at about 4pm. There was probably about another 20 people appreciating the music and chilling out around the drummers. 

Then an amazing thing happened. Over the next 5 hours the number of drummers nearly doubled and were joined by tambourines, didgeridoos, maracas and castonnettes. The music never stopped for more than a minute between 'songs' if you can call the improvised music that. 

The crowd swelled to well over 400. Of all ages, nationalities and ethnicities. It was amazing. The atmosphere was electric, there were people up and dancing, singing. The African dancers would get the attention of a drummer and then they would kind of 'battle' with each other, one dancing, the other drumming. But they seemed to know when the other was going to move/drum. I'd learnt about the dances they did on TV years ago. They were imitating the animals that they would encounter in Africa with big bold moves like a big cat, or an angry wildebeest.

Kerry and I sat there until 9 o'clock, totally awestruck by this impromtue performance. It was so organic and spontaneous. 

The drummers and dancer were so passionate about their culture. They displayed it with their music with so much vivacity I began to think what traditions we have in England? How would we show off our culture in a park in a foreign country? Strap on some bells and do a moris dance? Drink ourselves in to a drunken stupor on a Friday? Cripple ourselves with as much debt as we can?

Barcelona city and our History tour...

Our trips in to Barcelona are very pleasant. Not rushed as when I have previously visited a major city. Nice and relaxed, knowing we had an indefinate(ish) amount of time. 

Having been to Barcelona, and generally a few European cities before, I knew the importance of getting a jist for the sights and attractions on the first day. My previous visit was primarily to see Barcelona FC vs Valencia in a football match with 'the lads'. An annual ritual that ensued in copious amounts of drinking and being hungover. On the last day of our 4 day trip we took the open topped 'Bus Turistica' only to find we had discovered about 5% of the city and only around our hostel!

View from the top of Monjuic towards Placa Espanya

So after a morning of ambling aimlessly down La Rambla I thought we better get on the tourist trail and attend a walking tour. Something I've found to be very informative and educational in other countries. We grabbed a 'free' one from the 'Travel Bar' just a short distance from the main street.

The tour was great. Everyone of the 6 or so couples in attendance were from totally different ends of the earth. And our guide, Hannah, was Finnish of all nationalities! She took us on a brilliant tour of the Barri Gotica (Gothic Quarter) to the east of La Rambla. Her knowledge was second to none. My world renound lengthy and probing questions were met with concise and relevant answers and afterwards she sat with us in a bar and answered all the other questions I had on Barcelona and where to go. For a Finnish bird she sure knew her Barcelona!

Ceramic 'dolia' vessels for holding garium (Fish sauce)

The history of the city fascinates me. How it was swelled over the years from something barely the size of a small hamlet to the vast, sprawling metropolis it is now. There are remnants of the old city walls and buildings that, unless you were told about them, would just be walked past as if they were any old building.

The History museums of Barcelona and the separate museum of Catalunia were an excellent way to enjoy the last Sunday of the month. Turns out they're free then as well!

The History of Barcelona museum occupies just a small building in the center of the old Gothic Quater but once in the lift a digital clock counts down the years from 2013 to 0013 and you walk out to a maze of excavated ruins 5 metres below the present day city.

Tank stained by cobalt whilst dyeing fabrics

Walking around you can see the old city wall along one edge next to a road and small courtyards dotted around where giant egg-like ceramic vessels called dolia were set in to the pavement to store garium. Garium was a popular sauce made from fish and salt that was mushed up together and left to ferment for a bit. Doesn't sound very nice to me!

Further along the now underground city remains we walked through to a building full of large tanks dyed all different colours from the materials used to colour fabrics including bleaching them with urine!

Dolia were used to hold pretty much anything liquid including bigger ones that were red from the wine that street sellers sold their stock out of. Next to them were miniature sized ones that held seas salt and honey to be mixed in with the wine.

We walked through the pre-historic ages in the History Museum of Catalunia, located down near the new harbour area. It was amazing to see how, as times moved on, a piece of flint the size of a tennis ball had 10cm of cutting edge which had grown to nearly 2 metres a few thousand years later.

It was interesting to see contraptions that were made before electricity or even steam power was around. I was especially engrossed in this simple device used to bring water up from a well to irrigate the farmers crops. An animal, usually a mule or donkey, would walk around the well (demonstrated by me) and turn the set of cogs what lifted a set of cups strung together to reach down in to the well. The cups deposit the water in to the trough at the front which trickles down in to the fields

Barcelona is an amazing city with loads of history to offer. I just wish it had moved on from the olden times a little with respect to pick pockets. They are everywhere and you can't stop to look at a map or a piece of architecture without instantly grabbing every pocket to check the contents are still there. 

Gavamar - Our basecamp for Barcelona...

We've made it down to Barcelona. The drive from Girona was pleasant as we took the coast road (N-11) pretty much all the way.

The driving when we got to Barcelona! Jeez! I was taking wrong turn after wrong turn before cutting up 8 lanes to get to the next wrong turn. It was nuts. All while Kerry is quizzing me on when the Sagrada Familia was started!

But the sat nav wasn't taking us to Barcelona. We were given an ACSI Camping Card by a very nice motorhoming couple back in Le Boulou, France. It is a Dutch scheme where you purchase the book and receive a card that entitles you to discounted camping rates at 20, 000+ sites costing either 12, 14 or 16 Euros per night per van with 2 people. The couple were so nice and I think they made our card using a photocopier and thick card but it looks relatively authentic. It does, however, get some level of scrutiny at the 3 Estrella campsite where we are staying.

The chap on reception commented "oh, another new style card" in a thick Spanish accent as we checked in on the first day.

The campsite is situated in a small town just outside Barcelona called Gava. Backing on to the perfect beach it has everything you could want. Proper showers and toilets, laundry facilities, internet, swimming pool, supermarket, bar ... the works. And the 2 Euro bus to Barcelona stops right outside the campsite.

We have been a little naughty though and tend to stay here one night. Get all our affairs back in order. Have a much welcomed shower and replenish the water before checking out and parking a couple of hundred metres down the beach on a residential road. Then we can kind of get away with sneaking back in for the odd shower, toilet etc. It works and means that our accomodation for a week is only 17 Euros!

We continued to use the facilities when we dared. Spending one day in Barcelona and two on the beach. Each Monday we would check in to the campsite as a sort of 'thank you' gesture. A way to negate the guilt we felt walking in to the campsite from the beach for a shower and a poop.

Its a nice campsite and perfect for trips in to Barcelona if you want to avoid the costly hotels and hostels in town.