I wrote a lot during my time in Tarragona. It wasn’t always published, but it was written. However, I hadn’t actually written about Tarragona itself… Why? Because there was always something going on and I didn’t want to miss anything out of what your average day in Tarragona would probably involve.
We wake up at 9.30AM. Well, Mike wakes up at 9.30AM. I wake up at 10AM and then roll around in bed for at least thirty minutes checking all social media networks ever invented, just in case the blog has spiked and I’ve become famous overnight. Or something like that. A quick shower, buttery toast and a tea later and we’re ready to head out into the labyrinths of Tarragona.
As we walk down our street we see people ambling along with their tiny dogs. It’s easy to spot a tourist here, they’re usually walking faster with a sense of purpose on their faces. The locals are happy to mill about doing whatever it is that needs immediate attention… everything else can wait until tomorrow.
We’re in Tarragona, so there’s probably a market on the high street (Rambla Nova). Tuesday’s and Thursday’s are a great time to shop for discounted clothing and piglets. Friday’s are best for window shopping expensive antiques. It’s starting to get hotter now, and we know that by 12PM it will probably be over 30 degrees celsius. It very rarely isn’t.
After sweating our way through the tarp covered market, we stop for ice cream at Raffi Gelataria. Just 2 euros for two scoops of whatever the hell takes your fancy. We then plot up somewhere near the incredible view offered by the Mediterranean Balcony. We sit for half an hour watching the horizon, dotted with just a few ships and taking in just how small we are in the world.
When we’re done, we follow the balcony to the left. We’re now overlooking the best located Roman ruins I have yet to see. The amphitheatre is easy to photograph from the park overlooking it, so it’s unnecessary to pay to enter. Instead we walk through the park and use the lift to reach the road again.
Walking past more ruins, we’re entering the Old Town. It’s summer so there are festivals left, right and centre. In the main square, Placa de la Font, castellers are probably performing, or day time fireworks are dousing the crowds in confetti. Failing this, there will be a procession of mythical creatures making their way towards the cathedral. We follow them.
After listening to music and snapping a few pictures we figure it’s time for some lunch while everyone begins to close their shutters and hide away for siesta. Fleca Flac’s is the cheapest cafe we’ve found to enjoy a nice lunch. For 6 euros we grab, “dos Cafe con Leche y dos pizza (jamon y cetas).” The lady also gives us two chocolate croissants. A veritable Catalan feast. Using the free wifi we update Instagram with the mornings adventures and discuss what we’ll be seeing later that night.
Full of fresh and glorious culinary delights, we make our way back to Old Town. There are a couple of museums here and a walking passage which you can pay to enter, but we spend some time getting lost and marvelling at each unique balcony.
As dark begins to fall, more parades are taking place in the streets. One in particular drags along a mobile beer tap and requests that followers, “hail the snail” and bow to him whenever a certain tune is played. The laughter is contagious and we soon find ourselves dancing along. Things are starting to get kinda crazy.
In the park, acrobats are whirling themselves around on ribbons with no safety net, “Devils” are dancing amongst fireworks (otherwise known as the Ball de Diables) and somewhere else a big boobed, bird beaked dragon known as the Vibria (or Vibra), is accepting donations of dummies and handing certificates and ‘icky ‘weets out to kids.
After plenty of time enjoying the free entertainment, we wind down with a three course meal at Regine’s on the high street. For 11.90 euros each you can enjoy a ravioli with carbonara sauce starter, a pork tenderloin with mushroom sauce main, ice cream for dessert, a large glass of Sangria and crusty bread. The value is unbeatable.
Of course, if you weren’t a sloth, like I, then you could mosey on down to the Fucking Bollocks concert at the amphitheatre and continue on with flasks of Chantreuse and Fanta Limon until the early morn. You could even stay out and catch the beautiful pink sunrise.
I’ve been hanging on to this post a lot longer than I meant to. It was due to go live around two weeks ago, but ‘stuff’ happened and I was afraid to proof read and post it.
If you follow my Twitter, you will have noticed I’m now travelling solo. SO, enjoy my last ‘travelling couple’ post, because from now on… it’s all about moi!