Cádiz – Entrecastillos

‘Entrecastillos’, Spanish for between castles, and also the name of a small tapas bar that we visited last week in La Viña, the old fishing neighbourhood of Cadiz. A fitting choice of venue given my current status of employment, though perhaps ‘entretrabajos’ (between jobs) would have been more apt. On the subject of football and castles, it’s difficult to see them oil rich Geordies (Newcastle) picking up the phone and ending my sabbatical, whilst closer to home 9th tier Clitheroe (famous for its Norman keep) are at the opposite end of football’s ever widening gulf, ironically and with a little bit of luck I’ll surface somewhere in between.

With all that said, last week afforded me the opportunity to get away from the stresses, strains, trials and tribulations of my chosen career and spend a few welcome days on the Costa De La Luz. Since meeting my wife Courtney we’ve enjoyed many a fine trip to the ever so beguiling region of Andalusia but prior to this week had never ventured any further (west along the coast) than that famous rock that hosts Barbary apes and flys the Union Jack. Now it’s a well known fact that Gibraltar continues to exist as a British Overseas Territory but in truth it also sits somewhere in between (there’s a theme here). It’s rocky shores are all that separate Islamic North Africa and Christian Spain, it’s residents though fiercely pro Britain converse in a mixed tongue and it also sits at the junction of the provinces of Malaga and Cadiz.

Though unlike Gibraltar’s heavily secured border there’s no physical boundary as you pass signs welcoming you to ‘La Provincia de Cadiz’, its contrasting nature (to neighbouring Malaga province) quickly becomes apparent to the naked eye, especially once passing through the industrialised port town of Algeciras. The abundant cranes, pretentious beach clubs and world renowned golf courses of the Costa Del Sol instantly give way to a much quainter way of life. The arid ‘campo’ is only disturbed by windswept surfing towns like breezy Tarifa where we stopped for a mooch and a feed. Here we found monuments to the Catholic ‘heroes’ of the reconquista, windsurfers unwinding after a long day battling the elements and barbecued pork that proved to be a precursor to the gastronomic delights of this region.

Tarifa’s Puerta De Jerez

We based ourselves for the week in Conil De La Frontera and it proved to be an inspired choice. Perched atop cliffs with endless views of an azure Atlantic it provided a perfect dose of rest and relaxation whilst also retaining a real buzz. This was particularly true once the late summer sun had began to drop and the town sprang into life. There’s a soul and spirit in Andalusia that continues to burn bright. Whilst the UK has allowed vast corporations to monopolise trade, here the butcher and baker still reign supreme, community interaction is a real thing and people sing and dance without fear, embarrassment or the need for narcotic consumption. It’s something that comes from deep within, a pride in the traditions of bygone days. Our endless differences as regional entities should be celebrated and preserved. Long live the hypnotic Romani rhythms of flamenco.

Aside from the endless sunbathing and nightly sampling of various regional delicacies (the locally caught tuna which is revered with a healthy fanaticism and famous Retinto beef are quite rightly proudly regarded) we managed to squeeze in a trip to one of Western Europe’s oldest cities. Crossing the isthmus that connects Cadiz to nearby San Fernando, we headed along the main thoroughfare that led us deep into the oldest part of this ancient city. Unfortunately we’d arrived around six and although we were able to marvel at the ornate cathedral and maritime watch-towers, the whole place seemed to be in the vice like grip of a siesta. This drowsiness sits at a complete contrast to neighbouring Malaga who’s recent surge in tourism has seen a huge influx in European city hoppers.

There is though a distinctly more local feel to Cadiz and this was no more in evidence than when we stumbled across La Caleta bay at sunset.

I’ve always been envious of the great artists, or anyone who is proficient with a brush for that matter. The ability to transfer a scene from the minds eye to canvas never ceases to amaze, however far from being blessed with that particular talent I’ll attempt to paint a picture here with the written word. But before that.. here’s to Andalusia, to Malaga’s ‘museos’, Cordoba’s ‘catedral’ and Cadiz’s ‘castillos’. Here’s to innovation and modernism, to tradition and folklore. Here’s to somewhere in between.

What a joy to behold this glistening bay at dusk in the presence of ‘Gaditanos’ young and old. Those with Phoenician blood, Roman features and Arab ancestry. Those whose distant kin may have seen Columbus breach the horizon before returning with gold laden galleons. Those sipping cocktails on plastic chairs or sharing fried fish with a loved one. Those animated ‘abuelas’ playing dice and bingo for money. Those ‘Cordobes’ and ‘Sevillanos’ fleeing the oppressive rays of summer for the respite of a cool Atlantic zephyr. Those youngsters shunning Bellingham and donning ‘amarillo’. Those leather footed ‘pescadores’ nimbly traversing seaweed strewn rocks. Those topless and unashamed. Those with their own deckchair. Those bare chested kids in the rock pools. Those model like fishing boats painted in the colours of the Andalusian flag. Those scaling sun drenched ‘castillo’ walls in the hope of a better view. Those once glorious baths that scream Sussex not Spain. Those two kind souls who coppered up to get us an ice cream. Those for whom this spectacle is just another day. Those who didn’t clap the sunset. Those Gaditanos.

La Caleta, Cádiz, September Sunset

‘entrecastillos’ – between castles

‘entre trabajos’ – between jobs

‘la provincia de cadiz’ – cadiz province

‘campo’ – countryside

‘museos’ – museums

‘catedral’ – cathedral

‘castillos’ – castles

‘gaditanos’ – natives of cadiz

‘sevillanos’ – natives of sevilla

‘cordobés’ – natives of cordoba

‘abuelas’ – grandmas

‘amarillo’ – yellow, the colours of cadiz cf