Alicante was today's exotic destination. After the morning in Almoradi setting up delivery of items for Fontana, we had lunch at a small seafood tapas bar on Calle Pablo Picasso. Of course I had tostada with tomato puree, serrano ham and manchego cheese-what else? Next time the seafood. San Miguel (alcohol-free, since I was driving) to wash it down and off to the bank in Algorfa for a few more arrangements.
Once in Alicante, we were promptly led astray by Guida, the GPS bitch. Seems she can't handle buildings over two storeys tall, goes into de-fib and lies to you. We drove up the tallest hill around and looked for the Castillo Sta. Barbara which was a klik or two away. With the help of a map and a passerby, we got to the base and drove up most of the 500+ meters, then climbed the rest. The Alcazaba is an amazing pile of stones, all of which were carried up by free labor. It dates back to the medieval days, and was occupied by Spaniards, Moors, English and French in various waves of succession. Looking down over the parapets gave me great waves of nausea and gratitude that I was never accepted at airborne school. Of particular interest was the five-holer, a narrow platform with an iron handrail, and no seat, on the outside of the wall, about 1200 feet in the air, from which the defenders could express their contempt on the assaulting troops. I would lock up.
I tried to put myself in the shoes of one of the hundreds of attacking infantry; looking up the cliff at the castle walls over a thousand feet up. I felt the weight of the siege ladder on my shoulders, felt the sweat soaking into the leather wrapping on my battle axe, heard the screams of my comrades who were being splattered with boiling oil or, worse yet, by-products of last nights' meal. I heard myself telling my squad leader, "Screw you, kill me now, that way I don't have to climb up there to die."
Fitting thoughts to wash away with a carajillo while looking over the city and the beautiful sun-lit Med.
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