Tag: Catalonia

It was an hour’s drive to the small town of Llanca on Spain’s Costa Brava. We were to stay a couple of nights and then cross the border into France to meet some friends who live in the Aude Department of Occitanie.

Together with nearby Cadaques and Roses, Llanca was a tiny fishing village until tourism took over. With 5,000 inhabitants it has doubled in size over the last fifty years but, although it lives in the shadows of Cadaques and Roses, it is a beautiful and picturesque little town with many attractive beaches.

After parking the Van at Camping L’Ombra I set off to Llanca’s old town.

There is little left of Llanca’s erstwhile medieval centre, the town having suffered considerable bombing during the Spanish Civil War but, what remains is concentrated around the Placa Major – that’s the 18th century Parish Church (Parroquia Catolica de Sant Vicenc), the tower of an earlier 14th century church, the remaining tower and some of the walls of the 14th century Abbot’s Castle-Palace (the Torre de l’Homenatge) and the ‘Tree of Liberty’ planted in 1870.

There is also a bar with tables set underneath the huge Plane tree which is the Tree of Liberty and I found time to sit there with a beer to both reflect on what I had seen and plan the rest of my route around Llanca.

After a further short wander around the old town and then the port, I made my way back to Camping L’Ombra. The dogs wanted walking and Vanya and I needed feeding.

I mentioned perviously that this part of the Catalan coast is renowned for it’s food (see last years post on Roses) and we weren’t disappointed with the food served to us at a bar-restaurant named ‘El Floc’, which in Catalan means ‘the flake’. A lady we spoke to down at the port had recommended El Floc for it’s food, service and ambience and she was right on all counts.

El Floc is a modern, clean and very popular restaurant on Avenida Pau Casals. It was busy as we arrived but we secured the last empty table on the terrace at the front of the restaurant and, over the next couple of hours, enjoyed a really pleasant late lunch. The food wasn’t cheap but it was good value, being very tasty and beautifully presented. My starter, Scallops with a Trumpets of Death Parmentier, was outstanding and as for Vanya’s dessert of Strawberry Soup… she adored it.

The next day I set off to explore some of the beaches around Llanca. First I headed south from Llanca in the direction of El Port de la Selva to the beach at Cap de Bol. I enjoyed the walk and would have continued on beyond El Port de la Selva to Cadaques but there was insufficient time. Instead I retraced my steps to Llanca and then walked north along the coast taking in the beaches of Platja del Port, Platja de L’Argilera, Platja de San Jordi, Platja de L’Alguer, Platja Sota del Parador and Platja de Grifeu. There are some 23 different beaches in the vicinity of Llanca and they vary enormously but all have something about them.

The Platja del Port is the largest of the beaches visited during the course of the day, measuring some 425 metres (by 30 metres) between Llanca’s port area and the mouth of the River Valleta. Unsurprisingly, the Port Beach is the busiest of all those in the area and it is lined with bars, restaurants and shops. The sand is coarse but, like the water in this area, it is very clean; so much so that the beach has been awarded a Blue Flag. Further north, the smaller Platja de Grifeu with it’s fine sandy beach also has a Blue Flag and it is my favourite. I sat for an hour outside one of the two bars on the Grifeu just sipping beer and chilling. Most of these beaches are small and are to be found in inviting, unspoilt little coves with crystal clear water and mountain backdrops.

One beach that I didn’t reach but will visit in the future is to be found at the remote pocket sized cove of Cala Bramant, some two miles north of Llanca. Platja Bramant is a small pebble beach with a narrow opening to the sea. It’s crystal clear water offers interesting snorkelling and is best visited in the morning when the tide is high and the beach is quieter.

Reading back that which I have written so far it perhaps appears I have been rather restrained with my thoughts regarding Llanca. Let me explain. The facts are that (i) Catalonia, especially in the north, has many pretty coastal resorts and I cannot, in all honesty, rank Llanca amongst the best and (ii) many of the Region’s towns have considerably larger and more interesting medieval quarters whereas; little remains of Llanca’s old town (not least because of damage caused to the town during the Carlist Wars and the Spanish Civil War) and (iii) as good as the food is in Llanca (and with apologies to El Floc and Els Pescadors), Llanca is a small town with nowhere near enough restaurants to compete with the likes of Barcelona, Blanes, Casamar, Miramar or either of Roses or Cadaques (where Michelin Stars abound). Nevertheless, I like Llanca and I will definitely return to the town.

Out of season, and this is a real plus, Llanca is nowhere near as crowded with tourists as the other towns I have mentioned in this post. Moreover, it offers an almost perfect balance in terms of things to do being (i) it’s proximity to other interesting towns and villages in Catalonia and (ii) it’s walking and/or hiking opportunities along the rugged and rocky coastline of the Costa Brava* and (iii) it’s many and varied beautiful beaches** and (iv) it’s wonderfully fresh food and drink and (v) the warm and inviting welcome afforded by the locals. Best of all, it is a great place to chill.

FOOTNOTES to Llanca Blog:-

* Coastline Catalonia has more than 500 kilometres of wonderfully rugged and rocky coastline, 160 kilometres of which form the Costa Brava and include the Camino de Ronda (and not forgetting the GR 92 which connects Porbou on the French Border with the Pont de L’Olivar where Catalonia meets Valencia). The well maintained coastal paths around Llanca provide for a range of spectacular sights (soaring sea cliffs and impressive rock formations, headlands with scenic panoramas, sheltered bays and shady forests, etc).

** Beaches There are 100+ beaches and coves on the Costa Blanca alone, 32 of them with Blue Flags. Many have all the facilities one would expect of seaside resort (restaurants, bars, deckchairs and showers, etc) while others are hidden and often deserted). The beaches and coves around Llanca are a stunning mix of gently sloping golden sands and sheltered rocky coves, all with clear calm sparkling water. I was going to include ‘warm’ in that description but no… not in June. Not while I was there.

And so to France…

Twelve miles north of Girona and twenty two miles south west of Salvador Dali’s hometown of Figueres, at the western entrance to Garrotxa Nature Reserve, is the small city of Banyoles (Banyoles having been granted city status in 1920). We were in this part of Catalonia four years ago (Tour 4) and stayed at Besalu and Tortella but missed Banyoles. That oversight has now been remedied.

The city is best known for it’s 2 kilometre long freshwater lake, the Lago de Banyoles, which stretches from north to south and has a depth of almost 50 metres. Fed by underground water sources, it is the largest natural lake in Catalonia and recognised for it’s wide range of flora and fauna (including otters, turtles, water snakes and 300+ different species of butterflies) but, it was the 1992 Summer Olympics which brought Banyoles to the world’s attention. It hosted all of the rowing events for the Barcelona Olympics and then again for the World Rowing Championships in 2004 and the Rowing World Cup in 2009 (as well as numerous, lesser rowing events). Going forward, the World Rowing Masters is to be hosted there in September 1925.

We parked up at Camping El Llac in Porqueres, on the south west corner of the lake and just 20 minutes walk from the city which is on the south east corner. Porqueres is known for it’s well preserved 1oth century church (the Eglesia de Santa Maria de Porqueres), consecrated in the 12th century. It is of modest design and contains little in terms of decoration. I read that it straddles a huge Earth Energy Line – an Earth Dragon Line but I don’t pretend to understand what that is all about. The church is, however, a pleasant enough place to visit and it sits in a quite exceptional setting on the edge of the lake.

There’s a flat 7 kilometre path around the edge of the lake but with Porqueres and Banyoles City being no more than 2 kilometres apart on the southern edge of the lake, the walk from the Eglesia de Santa Maria de Porqueres to the centre of Banyoles takes less than 30 minutes (even allowing for time to take photos).

The south east shore is dotted with a number of tiny houses or huts known as pesqueres. These huts were built during the latter part of the nineteenth and early twentieth century and are the ultimate beach huts for wealthy families to use as a base for fishing, boating and swimming in the lake. One now serves as the tourist information office but it was closed as I passed it. It mattered not; there are plenty of information boards positioned around the city and I was intent on exploring the medieval town centre and finding a bar where we could watch England’s second group match of the European Championship Finals, against Denmark. A bar in the old town would serve us well.

It is thought humans may have lived in this area some 80,000 years ago but this is unproven. It is certain, however, following an archaelogical find at nearby La Draga in 1990, that a settlement was formed on the south east edge of the lake as long ago as 5,200 BC. Most of this settlement is submerged beneath the lake but this has worked to the archaeologists advantage because large numbers of different wooden tools (bows, javelins, digging sticks, spindles, ladles, etc) have been recovered, perfectly preserved in the waterlogged soil. Wooden piles, planks and building supports which formed accommodation and storage areas have also been reclaimed and these have facilitated the construction of replica buildings on the site which is just to the north of Banyoles (see below – not my photos).

The settlement was evacuated early in the 8th century (sometime between 711 and 720 AD) when Muslim Moors and Arabs invaded and conquered almost all of Spain but, at least in this part of Spain, the Muslim occupation didn’t last long. Within 100 years Catalonia was free of the invaders (it was centuries later before the invaders were removed from other parts of Spain) and Banyoles began to grow around the Bendictine Monastery of Saint Steven (Monestir de Sant Esteve) which was built in 812 AD. The original construction was destroyed by a Saracen attack in 945 AD but Banyoles survived and thrived on the back of a burgeoning textile industry and the monastery was rebuilt within just 12 years.

It took me no time to find the porticoed Placa Major and on it a lively little bar with a decent sized TV (the Cafe de la Placa) where Vanya and I could eat and watch England play Denmark later in the evening. The football match wasn’t due to start until 9pm which left time to explore the old town.

I didn’t stay long on the Placa Major. It’s a fair sized rectangle filled with Plane trees and edged by numerous stone arches and a few bars. It’s a pretty place and the thought of sitting in the shade with a beer while planning my next move appealed to me. However, a dozen or so school children (part of a brass band I think) were demonstrating their dubious abilities on various wind instruments to doting parents and grandparents. It was the loud applause (wholly out of proportion to the talent actually displayed by the children) which convinced me the watching adults were parents and grandparents but, either way, it wasn’t for me and I took to the streets.

One very interesting feature of the town are the numerous open irrigation and/or drainage canals which were originally designed to both supply the city with water from the lake and provide flood protection. Over time these canals were lost (as one by one they were covered and integrated with the towns sewers) but, more recently (i.e. during the early part of this century), large numbers were uncovered and left exposed as part of a programme towards making the old town more interesting and attractive. They still provide a degree of flood protection but they now also serve as a charming water feature.

Most of the small historic centre is now pedestrianised and it is a joy to wander. I was particularly impressed with how clean it all is. Of course, the open canals may well help in this regard.

It didn’t take me long to find the Church of Santa Maria dels Turers (La Iglesia de Santa Maria dels Turers). Built in the Gothic style and consecrated in 1333, it has been remodelled a number of times (the current facade dates from the 16th century; two aisles were added in the 17th century and; the church’s stained glass windows date from the 20th century) but it isn’t the most handsome of churches and I didn’t stay long. In fact, I returned to Placa Major (the aspiring musicians had left); reserved a table for the evening and; enjoyed a couple of beers before making my way back to the Van.

At around 7pm Vanya and I readied the dogs and I led everyone around the lake and back into town to the Cafe de la Placa on the Placa Major to eat and watch the football. It’s a delightful walk and next time we visit the city I intend completing a full circuit of the lake.

The football match was anything but delightful. It ended in a 1-1 draw (which pretty much guarantees England a place in the next round even though England have one further Group Stage game to play) but, again, England were wholly disappointing.

The return journey to the campsite was pleasant and memorable in that Nala was given free rein to lead us back to the Van in the dark and she did an absolutely sterling job

The next morning saw us depart for the coast. We were heading some 40 miles east to Llanca for our final night in Spain.

We decided to drive to Spain for the day from Banyuls sur Mer, taking the D914 coast road to the Franco-Spanish border. From there, well… we were intent on having a pintxos lunch so, almost any town or village in Spain would do. We’d follow the N260 in Spain and make our mind up as to the final destination en route. This trip was as much about the coast road as the pintxos.

The coast road to the border was everything it promised to be. It is a slow route because of it’s many curves and hairpin bends but, except for a handful of motorbikes, it was surprisingly quiet and offered exceptional views along the Catalan coast. The route took us through Cerbere and then up through a series of interesting rock formations to the Belitres Pass and into Spain.

The border is marked on the French side of the Pass by a long abandoned customs post which is now almost completely covered in graffiti and; on the Spanish side of the Pass by the Retirada Memorial, erected in 2009.

The Retirada (the Memorial del Exilio del Paso de Belitres to use it’s correct name) is a pictorial representation by Columbian artist Manuel Moros of the suffering of hundreds of thousands of republican refugees fleeing Spain for France as General Franco’s armies descended on Barcelona towards the end of the Spanish Civil War. And it didn’t end there; a year later, in 1940, this same Pass was used by refugees crossing the other way, from France to Spain, while fleeing from Nazi Germany. I suspect a fair few of those who left Spain in 1939 were amongst those who were compelled to return in 1940. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Whatever, the photographs on the memorial capture the anguish and despair of the refugees. It’s a sobering memorial.

Once across the border and into Spain the road became the N260. This led us down through Portbou and then two other little fishing villages, Colera and Llanca.

Don’t ask me how it happened but, we soon found ourselves parked up in a place called Empuriabrava. Don’t go there! Reclaimed from swampland by some German entrepreneurs during the late 1960’s, Empuriabrava is a purpose built tourist resort of some 8,000 people (rising to an incredible 80,000 in the summer months). It is built around what I am advised is Europe’s largest residential marina, with some 40 kilometres of canals and more than 5,000 boat moorings. “Naff” is possibly the word that best describes the place. There is nothing about it that is remotely Spanish, let alone Catalonian, and from what little we saw (we couldn’t get out of there quick enough) it appeared to be populated largely by Russians. Vanya likened the place to an ill thought out and awful imitation of Port Grimaud. I thought she was being kind.

And so it was that we arrived in Roses. In a facebook entry on the day we arrived, I described Roses as being to Spanish beach resorts what Waitrose is to supermarkets (i.e tasty) but, looking back, any Spanish beach resort with any authenticity about it would prove tasty compared to Empuriabrava … but that shouldn’t detract from Roses.

In common with most towns and villages on the Costa Brava, Roses was a fishing town. It still has the largest fishing fleet on the Costa Brava but is now unashamedly a tourist town and probably one of the most popular tourist destinations on the Costa Brava. What sets it apart from so many other places on the Costas and what I like about the place is that it is not in the least tacky. The words fashionable and chic spring to mind (but, we are out of season). Moreover, it sits on the northern tip of Roses Gulf and is the only beach resort on the Costa Brava that faces west (which, if nothing else, will make for some great sunsets).

We parked the Van in the south of the town on a wide boulevard in the modern residential area of Santa Margarida and then, with the wide sandy beach and calm turquoise sea to our right, we strolled along the promenade towards the town centre.

Hotels, restaurants, cafe-bars and sculptures line the promenade all the way to the old fishing port. At it’s centre there is little left of the original village; just more hotels and restaurants, large apartment blocks, shops and boutiques and the odd monument and; on Sunday mornings a farmers market with 200+ stalls. There’s no doubt about it; Roses’s focus is towards it’s high quality blue star beaches and there are plenty of them.

Those nearest the town centre (the Platja Nova, the Rastrell and the Salatar) are wide family friendly beaches with fine sand and clear shallow waters and they are very popular during the high season; as is the beach just to the north of the harbour (Platja La Punta). Beyond that and accessible by car and local transport are the smaller, quieter but no less welcoming beaches of Platja Palangres, the Canyelles Petites and the Canyelles Grosses (also known as Platja Almadrava). They too offer golden sands and shallow waters and they tend to be frequented by local families in the summer. Further north, some 7 kilometres from Roses and on the edge of Cap de Creus National Park, is Montjoi Creek (where the world famous triple Michelin Star restaurant ‘El Bulli’ used to be located), Joncols Creek and Cala del Canadel. The sand on these particular beaches is darker and mixed with flat stones but the water is clearer still. Finally, there are numerous other small secluded beaches deeper inside the National Park (Cala Calitjas Creek and Cala Rostella being two of the larger better known ones) but these are stony and rocky and not so accessible and the water at Cala Rostella is considerably deeper. To reach them they require a bit of walking (unless you access them from the sea) and they tend to be the preserve of divers and nudists (or so I’m told).

Beach holidays don’t hold the same allure to Vanya and I as they used to (we can’t take the heat) but, going forward, I could be tempted to use Roses as a base from which to visit some of the surrounding countryside and especially the coastline although, it would have to be out of season. September and/or October would be as good a time as any. I think too that I could be tempted to charter a boat to better explore the coastline. Now there’s a thought.

After a short wander around the town, we set off back along the promenade to the Van, stopping at a beachfront restaurant on the way for pinxtos and a beer.

Oh. I mentioned the restaurant, El Bulli. It was owned by the Barcelona chef Ferran Adria and, until it’s closure in 2011, was one of the most famous restaurants in the world, holding 3 Michelin Stars from 1997 and being voted ‘Best Restaurant in the World’ 5 times in a row by Restaurant Magazine. Not once did El Bulli make a profit in the 27 years Adria was Head Chef but this is perhaps not surprising given they employed 40 chefs and had just 50 covers. It seems Adria’s focus was (is?) primarily towards avant-garde cooking; pushing boundaries and; creating new dishes with the whole menu being completely changed every year. Now that would have been a restaurant to visit.

We’ll return to Roses but for now, it’s back to Banyuls sur Mer and then north to the UK although; we still have a few days before having to catch our train back to Folkestone. It’s booked for Sunday 8 October.

And so, on our way to warmer climes, we arrived in Cambrils (some 20 kilometres south of Tarragona) and decided to stay for a couple of days. Our reasons were that firstly, it was getting warmer by the day (and the forecast was even more promising); secondly, there is far more to Cambrils than L’Estartit (and for the most part it is open) and; thirdly and perhaps most importantly, we arranged for a local vet to see Nala and Beanie about a Spanish Pet Passport (now that, because of Brexit, their existing EU Pet Passports have been made redundant).

Our decision proved to be good one. The fact is, we needed a rest. Ordinarily we take our time on these tours, driving as little as possible and properly exploring and/or experiencing the places we choose to stop at. That wasn’t the case on this particular tour. Storms and freezing weather across the whole of France had compelled us to head south as quickly as possible. It was time to get back to doing things right and that day’s sunset promised great things…

We stayed at Camping La Llosa which sits on Playa La Llosa and was an easy 15 minute walk into the town. Cambrils could be described as just another Spanish summer holiday resort, albeit one with 9 kilometres of 10 blue flag, golden, sandy beaches but, what sets it apart is it’s proximity to the three mountains of Llaberia, Argentera & La Mussara (water and mountains go so well together) and it’s many fine restaurants, including at least one holding a Michelin star (the Ca L’Estrany).

Ca L’Estrany was not to be but, on the seafront we found a small restaurant (Braseria de Porte) which had an appealing menu and we sat and ate and stayed until they closed. Vanya rated her meal, Crayfish followed by a Seafood Paella, as one of the best of her life. I tried Razor Clams for the first time in my life but found them a mite rubbery. No matter, we would both recommend the Braserie de Porte.

The next day I went for a long walk along the coast to and from Salou – no reason other than that I fancied the exercise.

During my walk along the coast I stumbled across a rather intriguing work of art which I subsequently learned was created by David Callau Gene in 2011. They are sculptures of three fishermen and two mermaids and were put up to mark the 100th anniversary of a great storm which killed 140 Cantabrian fishermen, many of them from Cambrils.

Yes, we enjoyed Cambrils – as much for the rest as anything. And yes – we managed to get Spanish Pet Passports for the dogs. They now have dual nationality.

Leaving L’Estartit very early by our standards we set off further down the Catalonian coast for Cambril pausing at Tarragona on the way.

Much of our time in Tarragona was walking to, from and along the lively, wide, tree lined Rambla Nova (the city’s main street) where we also sat and enjoyed some of the local beer and tapas. We saw a few of the city’s sites during our short sojourn but missed so much more. You need a good two days at least to do the place justice.

Walking alongside one of Tarragona’s fine beaches (the Playa del Milagro) to the Rambla Nova, we passed the remarkably intact remains of an ancient Roman Amphitheatre built during the reign of the Emperor Augustus in 2 AD. Augustus wintered in Tarragona, or Tarraco as it was then known, after his Cantabrian campaign. The amphitheatre could accommodate more than 14,000 spectators and in 259 AD was the scene of the martyrdom of Bishop Fructuosus and his two deacons. How on earth any one person, let alone 14,000, could enjoy such a spectacle is beyond me but the amphitheatre is just one of many Roman ruins in the city which, collectively, have caused Tarragona to be designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.

Tarragona’s 15 kilometre coastline comprises a number of beautiful beaches and the Playa del Milagro with it’s wide sandy shore is one of the most popular. One of the best views of the beach and it’s palm fringed promenade is from the Balcon del Mediterraneo which is to be found at the eastern end of the Rambla Nova.

There are some interesting statues dotted across Tarragona. One in particular on the Rambla Nova caught my attention. It sits towards the western end of the avenue and is entitled “Castells of Tarragona”.

The forming of the Castells (Human Towers) is believed to have started early in the 18th century in or around Tarragona and it has since spread throughout Catalonia. Indeed, an annual competition is now held in Tarragona every summer with teams known as ‘colles’ descending on the city from all over Catalonia to compete in building the tallest and most complex towers made only of human beings of all ages and sizes standing on top of each other. As many as 500 people have been known to form a colle and it is not unusual for the towers to reach ten tiers. The concept has attracted so much interest that UNESCO has declared the Castells a “Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity”.

As was mentioned beforehand, this was a brief stop in Tarragona. There is a great deal more to see in the city (principal among them being the Roman Forum and the magnificent 12th century Cathedral of Santa Maria) but we had to move on – our dogs were due to see a vet in Cambril.

As we moved along the A9 in France towards Spain it started to rain (albeit lightly) and the cloud cover over the Pyrenees increased but, no problem, almost as soon as we crossed the border the skies began to brighten. It wasn’t yet sunny but it bode well.

By the time we reached L’Estartit on the Catalan coast we had completed almost 1,000 miles in the Van since leaving Brighton and we were beginning to feel very good about the weather. All of the forecasts that we checked promised sunshine for the next week (especially if we were to continue south).

L’Estartit, like so many places on the Catalan coast, is a holiday resort primarily for the Spanish. There’s not so much of the lurid, ‘kiss me quick’ trash that is to be found on the Costas further south in Spain but neither is there much left of the old picturesque fishing ports that used to dot this coast. Fishing and the associated cottage industries have given way almost entirely to tourism and, in winter, the small towns and villages on this coast are now almost empty; with many of the hotels closed and countless villas and apartments (now second homes and holiday lets) all boarded up.

L’Estartit is no different to the other places. I walked almost the whole of the town during the late afternoon and early evening to find that most houses and apartments are locked and shuttered and not a single restaurant was open (or likely to open). I found just two cafe/bars and a kebab takeaway open and none of those three places were particularly inviting. A local I spoke to confirmed that only one or two restaurants in the town ever opens in winter and that is usually at weekends.

For all that, I did enjoy my walk around the town. L’Estartit has some nice cliffs to the north of the town, an interesting island protecting the harbour, a very nice beach front and a smart fair sized marina (especially given the size of the town). I suspect that a significant number of L’Estartit’s summer hordes arrive by boat.

Wolfgang Dino, whom we met in Tossa, recommended Besalu as a place to visit and so we did just that (although I made a meal of the journey when, just two kilometres from Besalu, I took the wrong turning off a roundabout and added 20 kilometres to our route – Plonker!). Never mind; we got there in the end and we still had plenty of time to look around and enjoy a tapas lunch.

Besalu is a well preserved and enchanting little town on the Fluvia River at the edge of the La Garrotxa Natural Park in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Access to the town is across an 11th century Romanesque bridge, the Pont Vell, which leads into a maze of 11th to 14th century stone buildings and narrow cobbled streets date all of which are enclosed in the original 12 century town walls. The place is brimming with history and character and while there are a number of tourist shops, their focus is towards locally produced items, lace and ceramics (especially colourful Catalan pottery) and it really does not appear a particularly tourist destination.

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Towards the centre of the town on the Place de la Libertat is the Church of Sant Pere de Besalu. Founded in 977 and consecrated in 1003 it is all that remains of a much older and larger Benedictine monastery on this site. There is a town market on the Place de la Libertat every Tuesday.

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There is a second church within the town walls, the Church of Saint Vicene, but it doesn’t have the same impact as the Church of Sant Pere.

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Besalu is one of the towns listed in the ‘Camino de Sefarad’ which is a network of Jewish Quarters, “each with significant Jewish Heritage”, stretching across Spain. Besalu had a sizeable community of Sephardic Jews (i.e. Jews who lived in Spain until the time of the Inquisition and who spoke a Spanish Hebrew patois known as Ladino) but this particular community disappeared not long after Pope Benedict issued his Bull in 1415 which prompted yet another systematic persecution of the local Jews by their Christian neighbours. The Christians in Besalu elected to board up the doors and windows of houses and block off all streets in the Jewish Quarter (except the one route out of town) and within 20 years all the Jews had gone. Besalu’s Jewish Quarter fell into ruin but in 1964 an almost perfectly preserved Jewish 13th Century Public Bath (the mikvah) was unearthed during local construction. It is this mikvah which secured Besalu a place in the Camino de Sefarad – there are only three still standing across the whole of Europe.

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Previously a quiet fisherman’s village on the Costa Brava, Tossa de Mar may now be considered the most northerly of the busy modern beach resorts that are typically Costa Brava and for that reason Vanya was not impressed with the place but for me it has a great mix of new and old and, at the risk of appearing a pompous git, integrates tradition and contemporaneity or modernism. Vanya won’t be impressed with that either.

One feature which sets it apart is the old town. It is the only place on the Costa Brava to have an almost fully preserved walled (medieval) town complete with castle turrets and cobbled winding streets. It’s not that large but it kept me amused for a good hour.

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The town has 5 or 6 gold coloured Blue Flag sandy beaches within easy walking distance of the town centre. Sitting under the old town battlements the largest of these beaches, the 400 metre long crescent shaped Playa Grande, was ranked among the best 25 beaches in the world by National Geographic Magazine but just the other side of the castle and protected from North winds by the headland is the prettier smaller beach of La Mar Menuda.

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There are purportedly three churches in Tossa de Mar but to me the the Esglesia Vella de Sant Vicenc amounted to little more than a ruin. The Saint Vicenc de Tossa is smallish well preserved church with a particularly nice ceiling but my favourite is the very little Chapel of Our Lady of Socorro.

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We both enjoyed wandering the narrow streets of Tossa de Mar and we both appreciated the warm welcome of the locals. We stopped first at Dino’s Bar Ristorante on Calle San Telmo for a drink or two and got to talking with the German owner, Wolfgang Dino, who has lived in Catelonia for more than 50 years. He gave us his thoughts as to the best places to visit in the area and invited us to stay on and watch the Spain v Italy semi final of the European Championships but we were already committed to a nearby Sports Bar where the equally friendly owner had reserved us a table.

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One other piece of relatively useless information before I head off out but it demonstrates the very real contrast that is Tossa de Mar – This town was the first place in the world to formally declare itself as an anti-bullfighting city. You wouldn’t expect that in Spain. Well done Tossa!