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Accidental athletes, free lifts & peak hydration
Spain – Day 9: Accidental Athletes, Free Lifts & Peak Hydration
Today’s master plan: tram into Alicante, browse the flea market, conquer the castle, and reward ourselves with a very civilised Sunday lunch. Simple. Elegant. Foolproof.
We arrived to discover the city had other ideas. Most of the big avenues were closed because a half marathon and a 10K were in full swing. The streets were lined with cheerful locals cheering on runners who, judging by their faces, were deeply questioning their life choices. We joined the crowd support squad, mainly by clapping and not running. A contribution is a contribution.
The flea market, sadly, had been reduced to a symbolic gesture of a flea market. More “concept of a market” than actual market. At this point, the great question arose: Do we really want to go up to the castle?
Then, like a miracle sent from the gods of laziness, I spotted a sign for the lift to Castillo de Santa Bárbara. Two hundred metres later, we discovered it was free for the over-65s. Cue four grown adults suddenly discovering their inner pensioner and boarding the lift with Olympic-level enthusiasm. Vertical transport has never felt so victorious.
Inside the castle walls, there isn’t a huge amount still standing, but honestly—who needs intact ruins when you have views? The panorama over the town, the sea, and the mountains is the kind of scenery that makes you pretend you’re in a travel documentary.
Naturally, we declared this “thirsty work” and headed back down to town.
It took us approximately 20 minutes to rediscover the exact same bar terrace we had occupied the day before. Muscle memory, but for beer. Pints for the boys, Aperol Spritz for the girls, and suddenly the world felt like a much friendlier place.
Lunch time. I produced my carefully curated shortlist (very professional, very organised), and we chose Restaurant Pelego, a mere four-minute walk away. One swift online reservation later, we were in. And honestly? Chef’s kiss. The ambiance: great. The service: lovely. The food and wine: dangerously good. This is the kind of place you mentally bookmark for future bragging rights.
Post-lunch logistics were painless: tram station nearby, easy ride home. We stopped at the heroic little corner shop next to our building to acquire ice cubes and other absolutely essential aperitif supplies. Back at the apartment, it was once again nap o’clock for me—until I was gently awakened by the unmistakable sound of gin & tonics being poured. Better than any alarm clock.
The evening followed our now well-oiled tradition: light salad dinner, some wine, and then collapsing onto the sofa for a film. Tonight’s choice: A Good Year. Sun, wine, Provence vibes—basically emotional continuation of our holiday, but on a screen.
Then off to bed, because tomorrow required us to be “somewhat sharper than usual,” which is holiday code for slightly less zombie-like.
All in all: free lifts, excellent food, strategic hydration, and zero kilometres run by us personally. Not a bad Sunday at all. 🥂
I do it my way 