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Trams, stamps and strategic nightcaps

The mission for today was admirably simple: embrace public transport like seasoned locals and take the tram into Alicante’s town centre. No hire cars, no heroic marches – just us and modern infrastructure.

After a leisurely breakfast (the sort that gently suggests productivity without actually delivering it), three of us set off. Chris remained behind, looking pale and heroic in equal measure. The tram stop was reassuringly close, and we had read that tickets could be purchased on board. This was technically true. Practically speaking, however, it required the combined intellectual firepower of three adults and several increasingly firm taps on a screen that appeared to resent us personally.

Eventually – victory. Tickets acquired. Dignity partially restored.

The ride into town is mercifully short, which is fortunate when one is still slightly traumatised by ticket machines. As we stepped out, I was hit by a powerful sense of déjà vu. I had spent a night here a few years ago and immediately recognised the area. Naturally, I took command and led the party towards the old town and the port, with the confidence of a man who once stayed “round the corner”.

The Great Stamp Quest

Before any cultural exploration could commence, I had a pressing international obligation: a letter needed posting to Germany. How hard could it be to find a post office in a European city?

Reader, it can be very hard.

Even after asking a postman – an actual postman, in uniform, mid-delivery – we remained baffled. Eventually we discovered that stamps could be purchased in a tobacconist’s shop. This felt slightly illicit, as though we were acquiring contraband rather than philatelic legitimacy. Still, stamp secured. One small victory for Franco-German relations.

The girls then embarked upon a light but determined shopping expedition – perfume, T-shirts, and various items whose necessity will doubtless be justified later.

Port, Sun and Civilised Hydration

We made our way down to the port and, more importantly, to the Samoa Bar.

Sitting in the sun with a cool drink in hand, watching yachts bob about as if they had nowhere better to be, remains one of my favourite occupations. It is the sort of scene that makes you briefly consider becoming the kind of person who owns a yacht, before remembering you struggle with tram ticket machines.

At some point, responsibility called. On the way back to the tram we executed a minor detour in search of a postbox, which my phone insisted was nearby. Miraculously, it existed. In fact, it is the only postbox I have seen in Alicante so far. I treated it with the reverence usually reserved for rare wildlife.

The tram ride home was uneventful – a blessed relief – and Chris, restored to health, was waiting for us at the stop. We had a drink (purely medicinal, of course) before retiring home for a brief rest and strategic planning session. I contributed to this planning by falling asleep.

Six Kilometres to Supper

In the evening, we decided upon a gentle stroll along the beachfront to scout potential restaurants. Six kilometres later – because “gentle stroll” is clearly open to interpretation – we selected Muchavista.

We were the only customers in this vast establishment, which would have been concerning had it not been 8 p.m. In Spain, this is essentially mid-afternoon in culinary terms. The staff regarded us with polite curiosity, as though we were particularly enthusiastic early birds.

Dinner was excellent, the walk back bracing, and a nightcap was deemed essential. The others retired sensibly to bed. I, displaying commendable dedication to holiday living, stayed up for a second and possibly third nightcap. One must commit to these things.

All told, we clocked around 12 kilometres on foot. Not bad for a day that began with public transport and nearly ended in postal despair.

There is apparently a storm on the way, so tomorrow may not follow the same sun-drenched pattern. Still, if there are trams, stamps, and somewhere serving drinks by the sea, I feel we shall cope admirably.

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