Valentin Sancti Petri Hotel Chiclana
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TripAdvisor Reviews Valentin Sancti Petri Hotel Chiclana Chiclana de la Frontera
Travel Blogs from Chiclana de la Frontera
... the crowd waiting to board.
The time passed surprisingly quickly as we settled in to munch our way through a large back of crisps and sweets reading and chatting as the train rumbled across Spain. I love to travel like this watching the landscape slide past the window. First we headed down the coast through Tarragona and then inland to Valencia. The ...
... taste some of these things (cooked expertly) before I will
brave buying them. So I bought what I knew, vegetables still sandy from the
ground, fresh eggs, honey with the comb, and olives from a back yard. The small
abuelas (grandmas) spoke no English, but what a connection there is when food
is the currency, and it is grown with care. The resulting lunch was just as
delicious as every moment spent gathering the ingredients. JOYFULL!
And then ...
... happening. Our poor weakened and terrified bull suffered over an hour of terror and confusion before being shot and fed as a free meal to the villagers. We would not be returning to partake even had it been on offer, and will not be attending another bull run either. We return to Sharron where our darling dogs wait for us, greeting us with loving licks and jumps. We feel blessed to be able to show them the kindness that we would like to have been shown to our friend the ...
... as there seemed to be ALL the British campers present around the tables in the garden - so many of them that there were no tables left for us. To be fair it was good tasty food - but hardly very authentic Spanish tapas.
We chatted to a couple of real adventurers while we ate the tapas. Pat and Vic have sailed around the Mediterranean, driven a Triumph car all the way to London through ...
... heard on any dairy farm. And dogs. At night one dog starts barking, and is answered by dogs for miles in every direction. Fortunately this is not a site used by Spanish weekenders, so we don’t have the cacophonous shrieking of Spanish mothers to put up with as well. And where there’s a farm, there’s a farmyard smell. It isn’t always there, depending on the wind direction, but when ...