Last free day

A somber greyness covered the town this morning with the distant Pyrenees mountains covered in a misty shroud which rolled down and filled the nearby valleys as well..combined with a warm sea mist coming in from the Bay of Biscay the chance of capturing a good sunrise on the gopro was well and truly lost.

Your friendly blogger got up early and drove up to the lookout to give it a go anyway. As it transpired nothing much happened except the whole scene got a bit brighter. Given the tenuous position of the rig sitting on an impossible to scale rock wall and an increasing breeze threatening to cast it over, the mission was abandoned half way through. Took a wrong turn going home and ended up driving through the heart of the town to be back in bed before non-blogger had woken up.

After breaky at the hotel we jumped on a couple of hire bikes and peddled through the town around the beach to drop the bikes at a bike station (confusion reigned for a while as there were no spare potals) and continued walking to the base of the same hill as earlier. This time we caught the Fenecular up to the top. It seems very popular so there was 20 minute stand in line inside a large concrete hall next to a smelly black lab. Yes Spain is so relaxed they let dogs onto feneculars.
Sprawling over the top of the hill is a tacky theme park which luckily was not overcrowded. Seems mostly aimed at primary school age and schools in so they weren't there. Non-Blogger suggested we go on the roller-coaster which we did and was a definite life highlight..... not really. Luckily capturing the 90 seconds on video will ensure it's never forgotten. Must've been really scary for some peeps behind us as they kept screaming.
After that adrenaline raising experience (the screams not the ride) we headed back down the fenecular to collect two new bikes only to discover one of the previous ones hadn't docked properly and we'd been paying for it the whole time. So we traipsed back to the last station found the bike and realized the dock was broken, so docked it in another spot but the app wouldn't let us get another one. Bugger, so we ended up walking all the way back around the bay to the old town, luckily we were in no hurry. A spot of lunch "pintxos style" and we parted our ways. Non-Blogger went shopping whilst the other treddled back home go do the laundry. In the corporate world this is called separation of duties. Good timing as the laundromat was empty when he arrived and they were queuing up as he left.

More  insights as to how the locals live their lives in their apartment towers with the squares in the middle where the small tackers run around with glee kicking balls and playing on the same equipment that's in kids playgrounds all over. Teenagers sulk around sneaking noshes when the folks aren't looking and the grey older ones sit on plastic chairs at the ground floor cafés, smoking cigarettes and watching their world go by. The local real estate agents window reveals that one can buy into this hedonistic lifestyle for a cool 640k euros (3 bedrooms). So thats AU $1million  to bring up your family in a shoebox (can be seen as in the middle of two roads if you like) ... and kids today reckon they have it hard..
So now set for the next stage of this adventure with all smalls cleaned and ready for action. In the meanwhilist (during the meanwhilst?) we had one more stint in Spain to endure. This involved using the all-now-familiar bike riding app to locate two treddlies to take us back to town. This service is an amazing addition to the ambiance and general functionality of the town, whilst there are flaws in the system (e.g. the previous not-docking-properly-due-to-a-faulty-dock experience costing us the equivalent of a whole new set of bike wheels) it enables the locals to pop hither and tither at a moments notice with ease. No helmets makes it so much easier, and pleasant. So whilst some backwards democratic countries decide to ban these things and/or the local idiots think it's a great idea to throw them in the river, modern forward thinking counties embrace them.
We rode our two clackety iron stallions along the riverside with the overhead green canopy providing a colourful aura in what was still basically a grey day. Nice and warm though. Monday afternoon, all the locsls are thinking about getting home to their families. Not so in the old town where all the tourists go to throw around their dosh and soak up the ambiance that in doing so one creates. This is the principle that founded the town in the first place and they've perfected the art since. By now the rowing local hordes had had their fun and taken their boats, their fans and their hangovers home to leave the town to all the other tourists who come to experience the locsl culture.
Speaking of which, your two current protagonists in this blog had decided that last night in Spain should include a seriously good paella. So we tracked down our previously booked restaurant (it's a complicated place..all the streets look the same) and was dragged downstairs into their salubrious quiet dining area where all the patrons have to talk quietly for fear of others actually of overhearing what you're saying (upstairs on ground level the entire town is a cacophony of noise - so this was a stark difference). 

The next table of 4 (older than us) all ordered steak and chips. They had strange accents. Non-Blogger couldn't pick it (and she's proficient at this). This here blogger was astounded that you travel to another country and consume fare that any steakhouse around the world can serve.
Could feel all eight eyes wide staring at us as the extremely impressive paela landed on our table. Now that's how to soak up the local culture. Aussies showing the way.
As it transpired they were from Norway and so an interesting conversation about touring in our respective countries and we have a lead (a similar conversation in Seville had us landing in Cadiz a few years later, who knows...apart from snuffed parrots pining for the fjords there is distinct desire to check out Slartibartfast's work. So we'll see what happens there). The paella was fabulous. Cost a fortune but you get that sometimes You get a picture for free.
We chose to bike home. The 2kms walk which had previously proven to be stressful was amazingly easy on wheels. The warm breeze flowing through your hair in the well (yet subtly) lit bike paths sent Non-Blogger into a speed frenzy as she soaked up the experience and took them all on. Not that there was anyone to take on, but it was difficult to keep up. If this is Europe personified then we're all in.