Astute readers will remember that we left you with us sitting in the calm of an evening high in the Pyrenees. Now we’re in an inside-out cruise ship on the Costa Brava.
We sadly waved goodbye to our home of the last few days and drove to a lovely village in the mountains for a walk. The walk was pretty ordinary – high points were a Arabic well, a Roman bridge and a big cave. Low points were brambles, brambles and brambles. But we had a great lunch in the Plaza Mayor, along with yet more of Ana and Bob’s friends from Madrid, so it was a good day.
Then we hit the motorway and headed South. Jean had another day of excitement to rival her flying-fox experience as we kept up with the Spanish traffic – I’m assuming the locals knew what they are doing but won’t be surprised to find a speeding fine waiting for us somewhere.
And now we are in a resort about an hour north of Barcelona. The resort is nestled between two headlands with apartments on the slopes looking inwards. Imagine taking a flat block of clay and then taking a cruise ship and pressing it into the block. Flatten off the bottom of the imprint and you have the Polo Giverola resort.
It’s steep enough to have a funicular running down to the flat base of the hills. There, there are about a thousand umbrellas, tennis courts, a water slide, mini-golf, a pool, and so on – and, almost as an afterthought, a beach.
Jennifer and I are quite literally the only people here without kids of our own. But we are still traveling with Bob and Anna’s friends so there are four kids to share around, and all four can hardly contain themselves at all the cool stuff available for them to do.
Jennifer and I’ve been doing a lot of sitting broken by some swims in the Mediterranean, so no complaints. The water slide has been on high rotation and Jean been having a whale of a time as the sliding grandmother.
Last night we had a fabulous fish dinner in Tossa de Mar; after most of the group, minus the three car drivers and Jean, got themselves lost on what seemed to be a straightforward walk around the headlands from the resort to the town. They, who were lost long enough to give themselves a name (the Green Line Team), emerged dusty and tired and deeply in need of the wide range of sea creatures which threw themselves onto their plates.
Today is planned to be more of the same, although we started the day with Jennifer having a four-hour business meeting via Zoom with Australia. She’s just finished, so now it’s time for another swim in the Mediterranean.