Alegria or bust

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Next morning the pilgrims trail took me to Mula, an exciting town which is overlooked and dominated by the Castillo de los Vélez, a fortress built in the 16th century by a Spanish Marquis in order to subjugate the people of the area.  It was built on the site of a smaller Moorish fort that is known to have been in existence during the 12th century. The site has been uninhabited and disused for at least 10 years and there are currently efforts being made to prevent it falling into complete disrepair.  It's difficult to explain why I found the town so attractive, maybe because of its mixture of old and new, East and West, North and South. It really felt like a melting pot. This mural appeared on a wall at the edge of town.  Maybe two hundred yards away in a small housing estate I encountered two aged shepherds watching over a flock of sheep that were grazing in this suburban setting. They wished me good day and safe journey and I almost turned back to take a photograph of them with t

 Las Moscas de Einstein As a child I was fascinated that, driving along in the family car in summer, flies were able to zoom in through the open windows, hover around and annoy us, and then zoom back out again, changing the direction of their flight within an instant. I hadn't yet come across the concept of G force and the incredible stresses that these kind of changes must create in the physiology of the body, but I kind of intuitively felt there was something going on that might be outside the realms of human understanding. Certainly my own. So it is that as my route takes me inland I leave behind the kingdom of the lowland mosquito and return to the realm of Las Moscas, the Flies. Nature's garbage digesters. Without them our world would be a lot closer to walking round on the set of Shaun of the Dead. And I've discovered that these little varmints don't need the enclosed atmosphere of a motor car to perform the same acrobatic stunt. While I'm cycling along, admit

 I was so happy to be amongst the pine trees in the sand dunes down by the sea. Fixing the pegs was a dream and I thought I had got the tent set up as close to perfect as it gets. I went off to sleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing gently on the shore just a hundred yards or so away, but I woke up at 2am convinced there was a spider crawling over my face. Being unable to find it and feeling wide awake I set to work on the blog but was repeatedly interrupted by the sensation of something crawling on my skin. I soon discovered that there were hundreds of ants crawling around inside the tent. They were tiny, unlike the ants of Calpe two nights previously, but what they lacked in size they made up for in the sheer weight of numbers. Somehow they had sniffed out a piece of cheese that was wrapped up inside a plastic bag inside the tent. How they got into the tent I will never know, but I somehow managed to arrange things to keep them away from the sleeping mat and eventually I

 Entering Alicante, hugging the seashore, this morning was like walking through an impressionist painting. There was a fabulous stillness and quietness that even the car motors could not violate. The soft light of the sky blended imperceptibly with the sea and the beaches were peopled with a purpose. Countless games of volley ball were being played out with arbitrary team numbers, runners, cyclists, dog walkers, and waiters and waitresses preparing their premises for the inevitable wave of late morning cafe customers. It was very different to the atmosphere I had experienced in Benidorm. The city itself was expansive with wide carriageways, less culturally conscious and possibly more commercial than Valencia. All the same I found this "Fuente de Levante" which enigmatically is also known as "El Fuente de Los Luceros ". Built in the 1930s it has nothing to do with the Moriscos, or Moors, but exactly what it does represent I have yet to discover. To me it looks very H

I spent four nights with Felix and Ana at their house about four miles from the centre of Denia and they put me completely at ease. To start with we had a proper breakfast every morning with a laid table which I discovered had a value far beyond feeding the body. Ana was born in Uruguay and delighted me with her style of helping me to improve my Spanish. In fact style came as second nature to Ana and by the time I had come to the end of my stay I felt it to have been a great privilege to have spent so much time with her. Something else I have to thank Felix for!  Denia has an old citadel which looks down on the harbour where the ferry leaves for Ibiza and the Balearic Islands. It's quite a climb to get to the top but it's worth it. We visited some limestone caves nearby at  There was quite a bit of work going on at the house and this guy, Antonio, helped to look after the garden while there was no one living there. Antonio is a lawyer by profession but prefers to make his livin

Sleeping at the hostel in Valencia was not so straightforward. There were eight of us in the room, in four bunk beds, all keeping slightly different hours, and it was a bit like I imagine it must be living in a submarine or even on a Roman galley. Added to which there was a large contingent of Dutch school children who were not afraid of getting exuberant, especially after returning from their nocturnal explorations from about 11pm onwards. At one point, approaching 2am, I had just resolved to get out of bed and go down to ask them to calm down a bit when a group of girls started singing some luscious melodies. I didn't have the heart to interrupt them and soon enough tranquility prevailed. But it meant a fairly late start the next morning. Having trawled the guide books I settled on a visit to the Museum of contemporary art, in the North of the town. This meant walking through the oldest part of town which was narrow and winding and full of atmosphere. The closer I came to the gal