A Cornish Solstice

So Summer has finally arrived, proven both by celebration of the longest day of the year, and an entire weekend of unhindered sunshine. This doesn't happen often in England and of course, it most probably won't be lasting long. Cue the typical British excitement (/panic of missing a millisecond of valuable tanning time) which occurs on such a forecast weekend; the frantic running around digging out shades and flip-flops from holiday days gone by; questioning the existence of that tent that was buried in mud on its last outing never to be seen again; jamming the car boot shut and blasting the tuuunes... we were OFF! 

Being only a stones throw from arguably the most beautiful County in the Country (and about to offend all who believe otherwise), we set the manual sat nav (old fashioned map) for Cornwall - Kernow - land of plenty. 

After a quick bicker and a dejected glance at our wonky tent, we set out for the nearby beach - Porthcurno. Gleefully hopping down the coast path (beach bag in tow, toes in the sand), we were stopped despondently in our track by the whiff of cheap sausages and the scream of small babies. Unfortunately, the rest of the tourist population had beaten us to our hidden gem. 

We weren't in the mood for giving up easily, and followed the coastal path down a steep hidden path clambering through the rocks. Lo and behold, we popped out onto a picture perfect Cove...a beauty to behold. Our eyes panned across to take it all in, the turquoise crystal clear water, the long white sand, the....hang about....the....NAKEDNESS! It was too late to turn back - we were here now, it would be rude to leave. And so it was that we embraced the nuddies, and a very pleasant afternoon was had prudishly bathing in tranquility amongst the free willies. 

Weary from all the snoozing, we stumbled back to refresh before taking an evening stroll to Lands End - the most westerly tip of the UK - to see in the Summer Solstice. As the sun set, our bellies rumbled and we made for Sennen Cove and 'The Success Inn" (a short mile or so away on the coastal path) only to arrive a disappointing 30 minutes after the lobster Kitchen closes (well, this is where even Cornwall lacks compared to 10pm tapas). Well, you can't win em all...a packet of ready salted later and we were ready to raise a glass half full "cheers" to many more long evenings here in the Southwest.

Moors and Christians - Fiesta en Alcoy!

After a few well earned days rest in Xativa, we headed to party to one of the biggest festivals in this region of Spain. Given that the people here have been celebrating this day since the 16th Century, it's a pretty big deal. 3 days, 5000 people, elaborate costumes, trombones, knife waving and an incomprehensible amount of cerveza (a dangerous combo)!

In a nutshell, the story goes that the christians march (/prance/dance/ride horses/are pulled by buffalo) into town followed by the moors. They get involved in a big battle outside the Castle when suddenly St George appears (this is where we started to feel very English!) and tells everyone to hurry up and let the Christians win. And then everyone retires to eat the biggest Paella I have ever seen and drink cerveza. Delightful.

The town of Alcoy doesn't disappoint as a backdrop for the Fiesta. It's perched upon a hill, and the small streets exude an almost medieval charm. Everyone gets involved...from tiny babies being carried through the procession in Daddy's arms, to cheeky teens sneaking a snog in the hidden gardens, to grandad taking advantage of the one night of the year he is allowed to get absolutely trollied! The whole town and people from miles around come out to play, and there is a real sense of family and friend camaraderie, friendliness and good honest fun. Of course, we jumped both feet in to the celebrations (had to stop J diving head first into the Paella) and it flew by in a whirl.