Blog: Northern Spain in a tiny metal home.
I should start at the beginning. We set of in a Ford transit, I have roughly converted to a campervan myself, to tour Spain and Portugal. It's been nearly three weeks. Weeks packed with emotion, somehow constantly stepping into the unpredicted creates intense emotional responses at a level above my resting-heart-rate-normal-
Portsmouth: we stayed one night in the carpark of a classic English pub and had a look at some ships, that's Portsmouth, it's what you do there. Everyone was wound up tight with excitement which ramped up to fever pitch in the ferry line, never has so mundane an environment, as the mini traffic jam by ropes and crates, to board the ferry, caused so much tension, what will come? what will we do? What next? Is this stupid line ever going to move?
The ferry: my kids and I loved the ferry, my husband may have too, Tim has a laid back attitude to pretty much everything, so it's hard to tell! We careered around the decks revealing in the space, wind, sea and sense of escape! We explored little cafes and shops, we spent at least 20 minutes working out that two more stealth-beds were stored/hidden in the cabin ceiling! Sadly the kids struggled to sleep well in a long rocking swell and we didn't have a good night.
Santander: we arrived in the evening rush hour and I was already tired from the 24 hour crossing, as we slipped into port admiring the stunning mountains and sunset over the coast of Spain I alone was gripped with dread. The last time I drove unfamiliar European roads was breaking down on a five lane roundabout in France! It's dark, busy and I'm exhausted. When I drove off the boat following a line of vans out of the port it was actually a relief, really doing it being less scary than thinking about it. I was plunged into city rush hour traffic, sat nav in wrong mode not directing me, pull up reset, follow, accidentally get on big motorway passed our destination, backtrack through windy roads, some traffic signs I did not understand that were omitted from all my reading about driving in Spain, search for our destination and at last parked in our aire. I realised I had been saying out loud "I've got this, I'm a good driver" dozens of times for the last hour and a half.
We all piled into the nearest cafe, shaky, sleepy and starving. The lady there started talking to us and once she understood we were just off the boat and wiped out, she rushed off to reopen the shut kitchen and get us all Spanish omelettes! The first of many kindnesses from the people here.
Liargines: lucky for us we had some experience of Spain and when we heard the coming long weekend was a "fiesta" we bought some food. Everything shuts except cafes.
The fiesta meant traffic everywhere and any camper that left the aire had no space to come back to! We stayed. There was a fair, an otter sanctity, the kids made friends and started picking up Spanish from them. Liargains was charming.
Santander: we got the train back to santandair. This meant no more driving in the city and no losing our parking at the aire. I recommend the little ferry across the bay to a beach called soto. Charming sail, surf beach one side and sheltered bay the other, little surf shops and cafes, tall dunes, bridges. Reminded me of Sorrento, on the Melbourne peninsula if that helps. I recommend both places.
A few days later I had come down from my fear-high and we all stank, time to move on to an aire with showers, on the way we stopped at a town I called "lunch stop" with a beautiful old bridge. It's amazing how quickly you get into calling places, "the place with the broken swing" or "the place Dylan spilled his ice cream" ditching the romantic Spanish names like the uncultured heathens we are.
The aire with showers was shut! No showers, no sleeping, shut, it was dark, Tim needed to hot foot it to the village to use the wifi to tutor (or we would soon run out of money) the kids were tired. I drove the van passed the cones shutting the place, and up a little ramp in a gap between a building and a car wash, and got into the shut aire to sleep! They may still be looking for us! Good luck with that mate! I was in a let us sleep here or deal with me sort of fury!
We will not bother to find out which town stupid shut aire was in, if it needs a name it can be "stupid shut aire with stupid shut showers".
Cudillero: had the beach I called heaven, really called "space" "espacia" perhaps heaven is the freedom to move and have space.
Ortigueira: this was so like my native Scotland that I kept referring to the tidal estuary as the "loch" (Scottish for lake). Green hills with misty mountains behind, grey-silver water. Little harbours sheltering mini fishing fleets, bagpipes, tartan and a Celtic festival! Many Scottish people moved there way back when. But for whatever reason they remained Catholic so the churches and very different. Decorated, garlanded, gilded and colourful, very much Spanish. Mostly churches in Scotland are tough little stone buildings with bare stone and austere decor, of stone, and did I mention stone, grey stone.
The graveyard was equally a place to jerk me back to Spain, almost every grave covered in flowers, mostly fabric and plastic. It was a sort of multi story grave yard, stone boxes five high in strange "streets of dead". Surrounded on three sides by calm water and mountains it was also one of the most peaceful places these feet have ever trod.
Everyone was very friendly, everyone said it's beautiful here but the economy is bad. True most shops were boarded up and for sale. I saw town centre, stone built, three story properties for €30,000. Despite this everywhere I went they gave us free cake, sweets, extra whatever. One man I talked with gave me his discount card for a Spanish supermarket chain! It's all he had to give with him as he was out walking his dog passed my van, but he seemed desperate for me to accept something for my story. I gave him a pencil sketch of a rearing unicorn which I tore from my sketchbook and signed. He put it away in his coat like a treasure. I hope he can visit Scotland one day as he wishes. I hope the scots treat him well.
I'm collecting points on my new Spanish supermarket loyalty card!
We got a shower in the gym there!
Ferrol: ship building town. We went swimming at the public pool, you must wear a swimming hat, but they had them to borrow, and you bring your own padlock for the lockers, which we did not have! Little differences!
Padron: the aire at Padron was far into the mountains down a windy road with a beautiful river at the end. Once we got there we realised we had little to make a meal and headed all the way back to town, at that point I put my foot down, I had become very used to driving around quiet Spanish motorways and towns, but the windy but fast mountainside roads are still hard and I was dammed if I was doing it in the dark. We found a dusty carpark and did our first non aire parking to sleep, no one gave a flying fig! We lived there three days and cooked by the van.
Padron is all little historic streets and churches. My kids learned to light real candles for prayers of people, this is now proving to be an expensive habit as they want to light six in every Chirch we go to!
Santiago de Compostela: We were going to go here on the train from Padron, and do the not having to park/drive in the city thing again, but it didn't fit well around tutoring and we were going to skip it and move on.... Then on the motorway slip road the van got stuck in second gear, I tested it and it went fine, then at the toll it stuck in fifth. I was briefly stuck in a horrid place then got it going and pulled off in what turned out to be the entry to a nature reserve, thankfully safe parking. Breakdown people called, long wait, van on truck, go to garage, can't fix an auto, massive drive to Santiago de Compostela. Posh Ford garage full of €50,000 new vans for sale. We are all a bit grotty and long haired. They stick our van round the back. Long wait. Tim has back to back lessons and has to tutor in the garage. This leaves me with two tired, hungry kids, Jasmine has been a star looking after her brother through all the turmoil but she's getting tired too. They ask me about the breakdown, gear box, auto, ok it's broken, ship it home! Epic wait for taxi to hotel. Part of it in the street in the dark as garage shut. Really nice hotel with really nice food! Few!
After many calls back and fourth I have insisted a garage be found that will find out what is wrong, is the gearbox leaking oil? Or an electrical fault? On Monday the van will be moved to a garage that can take it apart and find out. So we are stranded in a four star hotel (paid for by my breakdown cover) in one of the most historic cities in Europe. Not all bad!
We went to the cathedral. It turns out it's not anything to do with compost, no one is growing carrots or collecting grass cuttings. Compostela may mean "star field" or "burial ground" but no compost. It's thought to be the resting place of St James, patron saint of Spain. He's a big deal, one of the 12 and son of Zebedee but again nothing to do with the magic roundabout!
The city is stone, tiny streets, steeply sloping up to the cathedral. Real pilgrims, wearing the shell symbol of the pilgrimage arrive all the time. They walk carefully, most walk 100 miles, many do more, but their faces are filled with the light of accomplishment. The cathedral is dark, very old and full of carved chapels, in the centre, gold, gold, gold. Real hope and real faith mixed with polite tourists and a little bit of freaky.
I feel very connected to so many feet on a path to feel close to their spiritual answers, then my three year old kicked off because we wouldn't pay for him to light his 55th candle and we all leave in a hurry!
I really hope we can fix the van and bid a respectful good buy to this city. I see the kids so engaged with each new place, soaking up culture and language, stretching their experience daily.
Let's hope Santiago is pilgrimage start for us.
Love, Kirsteen
List of places we slept for those dissatisfied with names like: "Stupid shut aire."
Lierganes
Colunga
Cudillero
Ortigueira
Ferrol
Padron
Santiago de Compostela
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