Sunday 8 June 2014

In actual Spain - part 2

I felt a bit nervous driving out of the multi-storey car park in the bean can; there was a faint smell of smoke/BO/magic tree air freshener, the gear stick seemed flimsy and the steering wheel like a toy car, however once on the motorway (intoning in my head "driving on the right, driving on the right, driving on the....") 
Tin 'o' beans

there was hardly another car to be seen and with the aid of a satnav and printed directions I was soon putting the can in first and taking a series of hairpin bends, leading to the final stretch to
 Caserio del Mirador.



Arriving at CDM


I had planned to arrive in time for the promised 2 pm paella and with I will admit it, a touch of the smugs, we pulled up at 1.40 pm to a very promising-looking scene.



There a few keys things to know about this place

It's beautifully thought-out: Toys, baby equipment, baby baths, buggies, blenders, changing mats are all provided or available
It's in a gorgeous location: The terraced mountains are covered in almond trees, olives, frangrant pines and flowers
The hosts, Johnny and Sarah can't do enough for you



Sarah, a whirlwind of a person (1 part steel, 1 part Boden model, I part English eccentric, 7 parts warm & friendly,) greeted us and settled us into our neat, yet spacious apartment and within minutes we were whizzed upstairs to rosato wine and paella and warm introductions all round with the other guests and a gaggle of babies, toddlers and children.



The week stretched out ahead of us and it was filled with walks, a trip to the beach, tapas, playing by the pool, visiting the animals (pigs, goats, chickens, ponies, rabbits) and all at a leisurely pace. The apartment was tidied daily, so with no boring chores to do, I could devote myself to baby.





Most afternoons, there communal children's meals where all the different age groups were catered for. Baby tried (and liked) gazpacho, roast lamb (sucked on....) and lovely home-made purees ("mush!"). Sarah also cooked a number of grown up communal meals that were incredible - her stream of entertaining chat and questions never seeming to interrupt the flow of beautifully cooked things that came out of the outdoor kitchen; tortilla, tapas, croquettes, slow-cooked lamb, white bean puree, manchego - I can't remember all the things we ate, but they made me happy! There were some lovely wines too - rose isn't usually my thing but it was just right in the sun and there was a really fine dessert wine, Moscatel de Valencia, which I regret not buying to take home.


Tapas


As the only guest utterly failing to get my offspring to sleep at the same time as the late feasts, everyone else was remarkably kind and tolerant of this fact, and babalu was passed from hand to hand for bounces and smiles and occasional roars of protest. I was given the chance to finish my dinner while people helped out, which was lovely. One comment sticks in my mind from the husband of a couple who said "if we had a daughter, I would like them to be just like her" which made me feel proud and a bit teary. Of course I pity anyone who doesn't have her for a daughter....!

Where the hell is my tapas?!


Some of the things we enjoyed were some mammoth sleeps at night - three nights we had ten hours in a row; playing in the sandpit under the Mirador; pottering about in the can to the local town Xalon ("the village" as it was referred to); a great massage for me while Sarah very kindly minded baby, carting her about on her rounds of the animals and finally having the opportunity to talk to other parents of very young children was a good experience to hear  just how much of what you do and feel as a new parent is universal and normal.


And I took some photos! In particular, I took a series when she had just woken up and was playing with a toy clown - its weighted base made it wobble then return back to centre....she seems to be conversing with it.










The week was over too quickly, we journeyed back, stopping off at Altea for some bloody weird tapas. To be honest, I didn't know what I was ordering, but it wasn't the gelatinous, grey, fishy balls that I was after!
Lovely spot though!
El Cranq

Thursday 5 June 2014

And so to Spain...Part 1

So darling girl, you and I went to Spain. We went just the two of us because your daddy is a kind and impetuous man and our happiness is his happiness. I'd waged a mini-campaign a few weeks previously in favour of all of us going on holiday, but it wasn't really a flyer....in the end, Himself came up with the idea of just you and I going and whilst at first I demurred, I soon started to think well, why not? I reckoned it would be a lovely opportunity to get your ever-swathed skin into the light and air and for you to have my undivided attention - not the usual staccato pattern of our days at home, spinning about, fitting you around things and things around you.

I had previously put the question to mumsnet for suggestions on a laid-back and baby-friendly holiday destination. I definitely didn't want to stay in a hotel - I mean, what do you do in a hotel room from 7pm onwards with a baby, particularly if you are on your own? I am independent, but even I could see that some kind of Hideous Kinky  boho Moroccan adventure would be neither wise nor fun, it not being the 70's anymore and all. But it was an easy decision in the end as the unanimous reply came back, Caserio Del Mirador. And so it was booked. Himself was to stay at home and, having had the pleasure of paying for it, would then also have to come home every night (instead of the usual staying in a hotel some week nights) to wrangle chickens, feed animals and keep the home fires burning after a 13 hour day and two hour commute. Saintly doesn't begin to cover it.The mumsnet jury is an exacting, even rigid one. But they were not alone in their praise - the most idle of google searches reveals a chorus of approval for this Valencian, but English-run establishment, but more of that later.

So on the 18th of May, having packed one big suitcase for both of us, which was filled with cute sun-friendly outfits (baby) and tons of supplements and a couple of ill-conceived maxi dresses (me), Himself drove us to Gatwick at silly o clock in the morning to the North Terminal and in we checked! Exciting... and rather impressively my luggage came in at 4 kg under the BA allowance - which made it all the more fortunate that I was flying with BA. Not only that, but we had free Club class tickets, due to the injudicious use of credit cards and the attendant collection of Avios points. Result!

But before the 1980's-sounding delights of the Executive Lounge, I was amazed to have my back up bottle of baby formula scanned at security by what I can only assume was a mass spectrometer to determine its lack of explosive / nerve agent content. Actually, I have googled it and that is exactly what it is http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puffer_machine - so the future has arrived apparently. The UK Border Agency having established I am not (yet) a dangerous criminal, waved us on through and so to the lounge,  in all its mirrored, be-croissanted glory.

From here it was easy. We pootled about, we boarded. The cabin was pressurised and you screamed with formidable commitment. But only for about 15 minutes and then you slept for the whole flight, right until we landed. I even managed to eat some breakfast with my left hand while you dozed in my rapidly numbing equal and opposite limb. I nobly eschewed free alcohol which, given it was 7 am, was not really too much of a hardship. At Alicante a slightly dishevelled and instantly untrustworthy English man met me with a little sign displaying my surname and off we went to the hire car. It turned out to be a close relation to a converted baked bean tin with wheels. No matter, a quick feed in the back, a word with my brain about the location of the gear stick in my right hand instead of my left and the holiday began. Caserio del Mirador beckoned to us from it's hilltop eyrie.