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    Day 1.335 – When Life Doesn’t Get Any Better (UK)

    Los Alcázeres -> Alicante
    Distance (km) : 92
    Time on bike : 5h 0m
    Brutto time: 08.45 – 16.15
    Avg : 18.4 km/h
    Max.speed: 44.9
    Total (km) : 59.088
    Altitude: 5 m
    Difficulty: 3½

    (Photos below)

    I got 11 straight hours of sleep on my defect air mattress. I spend way too much time each evening putting jeans, raingear, clothes, etc. under the mattress to make the night as comfortable as possible with the available resources. Really must get a new mattress.

    Great sunrise again. 10 degrees this morning. Undisturbed night’s sleep.

    In Torreviejo, I’ve ended up right in the center of the silver-haired segment. Northern European pensioners all over.

    I like the random, slightly non-chalant way, that many Spaniards reach for the seatbelt, often long after they have started the car. At home in Denmark which in many ways is more generally correct we drink it in with our mother’s milk that fastening your seat belt is the first thing you do when you enter the car.

    Here in Spain it seems like something secundary, something you do because – well – it’s there all the same, not because they really care much about it. From a non-traffic safety angle, I like this Spanish calmness, fearlessness, if you will.

    During the last 25 km I’m struck by an insane crosswind, which blows my mere 73 kg completely off the road several times. There is not much help in the bike, which is quite light these days after I sent a large 4.3-kg package home with surplus goods in Fuengirola.

    It is terrible and I just look forward to Alicante. I’m tired, hungry and my crotch really needs a big wash.


    All I really needed in the supermarket was a little juice, but I left the shop with 2 liters of Pepsi Max, 1 kg of pears and 2 kg of tomatoes. I’m so easily tempted on a hungry stomach – and how easily manipulable are the human beings. But what was I supposed to do: 2 kg of the finest tomatoes for only 1 euro and 1 kg of pears, same deal! Madness prices. And all I needed was a bit of OJ…

    There are many dogs out walking with their owners in the urban park where I sit on a bench in the middle of Alicante with my lunch. Immediately I become the dogs’ best friend because of the chorizo next to me (it IS good), and several dogs pull and drag the leash to come over and have a closer look (with begging eyes) at the Spanish sausage. It’s great being the dog’s best friend (as long as you have goodies in your bags – dogs are so easily manipulable too).

    I cruise around in Alicante trying to find a cheap bed for the night. The city’s only albergue juvenil(youth hostel) a few miles west of downtown is full, my next try, a pension has rooms for 25 euros, which I can not justify (although the bed was soft), and for a moment I take it as a sign that I should just drop Alicante and move on.

    A new hotel sign, which seems low-key and without stars attracts my attention, I park the Koga, and rush up and at 15 euros for a simple room, with TV, shared bath we have a deal. Ahhh, a bed for the night!

    Life simply doesn’t get any better as when, in the early evening, I sit on my bed at Pension Ayuntamiento with my canned meatballs, fresh baguette, olives, tomatoes and a liter of red wine (boxed) from the kiosk down at the street corner.

    The Davis Cup tennis final between Spain and the Czech Republic is on the small 14″ TV, I’ve just handed my grotesque dirty laundry to the hotel staff, Pearl Jam’s new and wonderfully beautiful “The End” is on my laptop, all my electronic aggregates and chargers suck energy from the same outlet (much like all the poppies sharing just one nipple) – and the other channel shows the World Cup draw live from South Africa.

    As the distance to the bottom of my wine gets shorter and shorter, I become more and more in love with the hostess on the screen, beautiful Charlize Theron. It doesn’t take a lot in the monk world (…and may it soon end, whispered the Silver Monk decidedly to me at this moment).

    It was such a wicked morning, thus all the visuals from my morning camp. A morning to remember.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Morning camp in Los Alcázares, north of Cartagena.

    Torrevieja, Spain.

    Coastline just north of Torrevieja...

    59.000 km. Los Alcázares, Spain.

    On this day..


    One Response to “Day 1.335 – When Life Doesn’t Get Any Better (UK)”

    1. Roar Says:

      Hej N. Tak for tippet ifht “The End”, har lige smidt den pÃ¥ for første gang – den holder 1000%! Godt nytÃ¥r! /Roar

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