Exploring Costa Blanca

Migel Hettige Mahinda Jayasinghe

The Royal Palace in Madrid

Merino lambs

Guadalest, the most visited tourist attraction

The city of Costa Blanca

I emigrated to the United Kingdom (UK) in my twenties over half-a-century ago and worked until retirement in 2001. As retirees, my wife and I now live in Costa Blanca, Spain, captivated by the lure of sea, sun and sand. The occasional glass of Sangria or red wine adds to our sense of well-being. I am writing this on my laptop sitting on our front terrace as the summer sun streams through cascades of red and scarlet bougainvillea.

In this part of Spain we have not failed to notice the frequency of organized day tours. The best known are the ‘blanket trips’ offered entirely free of charge. You can sign up for a blanket trip at any one of the street markets local to you. More recently a firm has been advertising such trips in the local free press. These trips are promotions for bedding and associated ‘merino’ lamb wool products. Merino is a rare breed of lamb. You are not compelled to buy any items, but have to attend the presentation which extols the virtues of merino wool bedding. Occasionally one or two coach passengers may be tempted to buy some of these high priced products, and that means the organizers are able to realize a fair return, more than enough to cover the transport costs. You also have a couple of private coach firms advertising day trips at reasonable prices, some including lunch. There are quite a few scenic coastal and inland towns and villages that one could visit on such day trips.

All the coaches, as of necessity, must have a driver (Spanish) and a tour guide (English-speaking).

It is the role of the tour guide which interests me. She is, invariably a middle-aged lady, who tries to keep you entertained while on the coach. She can churn out the same spiel over and over again spiced, at times, with risque jokes. We have done quite a few of these coach trips, sometimes with friends and visiting family members, but the trips to a hilly promontory known as Guadalest are the most memorable, both as free ‘blanket trips’ and paid coach trips.

There are various pick-up points for passengers on the way to these locations. When all the passengers are comfortably seated, the guide is ready to welcome and address us. She introduces the driver as, for example, Jose and gives her own name as, say, Emma. By this time we could be passing Santa Pola, on route N332, with industrial salt piles heaped up on the roadside. She describes the origin of the salt marshes, and what is found in the salt museum there. She points to the possibility of us seeing flamingos, and we could be straining our necks to see a couple far away in the distance. The watchtower that finally succeeded in keeping the Berber pirates at bay is a landmark that we are persuaded to admire. It has been renovated recently, but only from the outside, she explains. Emma then describes Guadalest as the second most visited tourist attraction in Spain, second only to the Royal Palace in Madrid.

The next item of interest she points to, is the large outline of the roadside black bull erected as a bill-board. I was intrigued to learn that it had originally been an advertisement for a local brand of brandy. At the time, it happened to be a colourful roadside advertisement, which distracted motorists, occasioning many accidents. The government banned it, but popular sentiment ensured its retention in the present blacked out form, no longer advertising anything other than that it is a Spanish emblem. Taurus is the symbol of Spain although bull-fighting, we suspect, is now being gradually phased out.

On the way to Guadalest, now on the AP 7 motorway, we pass the well-known James Bond (007) actor Roger Moore's former holiday home painted an eye-catching blue. We then come across the range of mountains referred to as the ‘Sleeping Indian.’ You have to stretch your imagination to see a supine Red Indian wearing the traditional headdress in the outline of the mountain range. Another story our guide tells us is that of the legend of a giant rebuffed by an Arabian princess. In his pique, he broke off a bit of the mountain and threw it in the sea, thus forming an island, another favourite tourist destination, called Isla de Tabarca. ‘If you believe that, you will believe anything’ she adds. She also has a story about the different-coloured houses in the coastal town of Villajoyosa, which we glimpse in the distance. When the fishermen come ashore with their catch, they are always in a hurry to get drunk at any one of the nearby inns. Their wives dress them in shirts matching the colour of their houses and even if they are quite ‘non compos mentis’ with ‘gallons’ of booze inside them, it is said that they can all be directed towards the right house and into the arms of the right spouse or partner, thanks to the colour-coding. That story is perhaps rather more credible than the one about the giant.

On the ‘blanket trips’ there are sometimes items for sale on the coach, and on the return leg, a lottery draw for some item that nobody probably ever thinks of buying. Inevitably, it is in aid of ome charity or other. On paid coach trips, there is always the need to sell the idea of another, different trip next time. Often, on the return journey, most passengers are comatose with too much food and drink inside them, and are allowed to snooze without much chatter from the guide. In any case, this is siesta time in Spain. At this point, Emma might remind us that the Spanish drivers are paid so little that a small, or even a generous tip, would be most welcome. The collection plate is passed from hand to hand.

As a parting gesture the tour guide recounts jokes that wakes everyone out of their slumber guffawing, and presumably, leaves the passengers with a favourable impression both of the guide and the company she works for. One of her harmless jokes, I remember, goes like this. A mushroom enters a bar and asks for a carajillo (coffee laced with brandy). The barman says ‘We don't serve your sort here'. The mushroom looks surprised and says ‘Hey look, what's wrong with me? I am a fun guy (fungi)! Another is that of the two nudists sitting on a park bench. They have been talking about their respective intellectual pursuits when one of them gets up. The other, continuing with the conversation says. ‘Of course, you have read Marx!’ The risen nudist rubs his bottom and replies. ‘Red marks? We have been sitting here far too long!’

This is the sort of life retired expatriates, like us who live in Spain's Costas enjoy. They know that they have only a few more years and want to indulge in harmless diversions while still alive on earth. Indeed, the World Health Organizations (WHO) has put on record that living in this part of Spain, eating a Mediterranean diet, can prolong your life span by an extra ten years.