Sunny with intermittent showers / High of 23° / 22’927 steps
We got into port a little “later” than usual with disembarkment at 9am so I got to have a lie in. I’ve done absolutely no research for this city except for reading the blurb on Google Maps. I head in a straight line towards the city, the port is right in the middle so it’s not far to walk for once. I kind of aimlessly wander about, accidentally following some poor lady. I see street signs for one of the main attractions listed on Maps, the Tower of Hercules. On the way there I spot a small beach that also has this sort of secret passage to one side. After nearly going into the English Channel, Vans and all just two days prior, I take my shoes and socks off, roll up my pants and walk straight in. The Atlantic Ocean is fucking cold. I also regret my decision when I realize that now I’ll be walking around with sandy socks.
Around the tower is this amazing green zone with information about the biodiversity and random menhirs. I sit on some rocks by the edge of the ocean admiring the view and shaking as much sand as possible out of my socks. Once I’m satisfied with my comfort level, I continue along. I take some pictures and selfies with a rainbow, thinking how beautiful it was and not realizing that that was just an announcement of the weather to come. It started to spit in the beginning and I don’t really mind, I’m not made of sugar, but it very quickly starts to hammer down. I manage to find some shelter and I plan my next move. I decide on the aquarium that’s pretty close because at least it’s indoors. As soon as the rain lightens, I’m on my way.
The rain slows to a complete stop, with sun and all, by the time I get to the aquarium. This break lasts the whole time I’m in the aquarium, and obviously the deluge starts again as soon as I’m 10m away from the aquarium. The aquarium is a lot of fun though and I even have a weird French / Spanish conversation with a child. I continue along the coast and the big beaches, resisting the urge to get sandy socks again. I head back into town through the pedestrian zones and the overpriced shops. I bump into a guy that I’ve made kind of friends with by having a fan on the dance floor, my weekends of clubbing experience coming in clutch. My lunch is a Spanish tortilla from the Dia and a KFC that I didn’t have to pay an arm and a leg for. I’m reminded of yet another reason I didn’t want to leave Madrid two years ago. The rest of my afternoon is spent window shopping before heading back to the boat for the much needed, culturally appropriate, siesta.