Internacional Playa Cambrils

The wind howled and rocked Scooby all last night. We all thought we were going to be blown away! Caught the bus into Tarragona, which the LP sells as an eternally sunny port with lots of interesting Roman sites. Well being a Monday all of the sites were closed but we did manage to view the amphitheatre from the road and wander ...

... a few hours. Not a hard task for them as there were plenty of cafes and shops nearby. The surf was head high but pretty gutless, not great but I never expected to get the board out in the Med so it was a real bonus.

After drying up the next priority was to find a bar showing the Barcalona vs Real Madrid football match probably the biggest game in the La Liga schedule. Not surprisingly everyone was showing the game the difficulty proved to find one ...

... magnifique! Des oliviers partout, partout, et parfois une petite maison... les gens sont très isolés ici même si la ville n'est pas si loin. Je demande mon chemin à un vieux monsieur qui m'offre gentiment de l'eau, des noix et... qui m'accompagne un bout sur les chemins pour me montrer quelle direction prendre pour ne pas me tromper. J'arrive dans les marais du Delta de l'Ebre en fin de journée ...

je quitte Premia de Mar, Alain et Isra, ils ont été adorables avec moi. Je traverse Barcelone en train et décide à rester dans le train jusqu'au bout de la ligne, ce sera toujours ca de gagné!! Je roule quelques heures (étant donné que je suis partie à midi de Premia, le soir arrive vite) avant d'arriver devant un camping. J'hésite... il est 18h30, la nuit ...

inspiriert von Johannes´ und Judiths neuen schönen Weltreise-Berichten, auf die wir uns immer wieder freuen, gibt es jetzt mal wieder etwas aus dem guten alten Europa, von Kloestern und Staedten, die schon Hochkultur hatten, als in Australien noch alles wild und unberührt war.

Relativ spät im Urlaub hatten wir mal wieder einen Ausflug ins Kloster Santes Creus gemacht, in die Berge, deren erhabene Ruhe immer wieder beeindruckt und man sofort versteht ...

... br>
Wie immer fiel unser Urlaub in die hohen Festtage von "Sant Magi", mit Menschentürmen, Festlichkeiten überall, mitternächtlichen Parties und vielem mehr.

Schön gekocht, Essen gegangen, unter anderem natürlich im Dorado, eine wunderbare Seezunge. Nur der Spielsaal, in dem Johannes und Stefan früher ihr Taschengeld verzockt hatten, war nicht mehr da, das findet jetzt wohl alles zu Hause am Computer statt.

Es geht uns wieder prächtig!

Waking up by rolling a few meters on the sand into the sea is fun (not as fun as shirt ball though). After leaving town we realised there was road works on the road we needed to be on. It was begining to seem like there would have to be a massive detour but by skillfully pointing at my bike and the road many times until the workers let us go down it; despite massive diggers swinging about. Spanish ...

... as you can. However, you have to be waist deep in the sea 6 meters apart and you can´t throw it directly at the other person, you have to skim it off the sea. Every time you hit the other person in the face you get a point. Genius.

Also, in the morning I had gone for a run and due to a previous sun burn I was peeling. A massive pool of sweat had gathered between my skin and my peeling skin. It looked like a tumor the size of a ...

... the guys time with me hanging on a rope. Anyway, the others arrived - Kev, Daire & Grainne. So repeated a 6b+ and 6c to finish. Didn't feel trashed, wow. Which means that the 8a didn't completely kill me, which means it's do-able! Why do I have to be going home...... Steve made an interesting comment that "the Irish climbing community suffers from a lack of self-confidence". He's right.

... or blue perms (or pink and blue perms) defy the winds and look as though they weigh a ton. I became a bit concerned when Margaret debated getting her hair done at the salon attached to our hotel, but she decided against it. Later that day she changed her mind and allowed the signora to cut her hair in the style of the Ronnettes. We were due to leave Montserrat and Spain the next day and, for the first time since we left our gite in the Dordogne, I was sorry to be moving on.