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Clouds, cocktails & questionable life choices

Woke up to a sky that looked like it hadn’t had its morning coffee yet. The weather station promised the clouds would clear by 10am—and, shockingly, it told the truth. Temperatures dipped a couple of degrees, which was all the excuse we needed to postpone beach duty. Sunscreen stayed unemployed; public transport got the call.

We crammed ourselves onto the tram to Alicante, which was doing its usual impression of a human sardine tin. Swift journey though, so points for efficiency. We hopped off at Mercado (because getting off one stop early makes you feel like a local, even if you are, in fact, a very obvious tourist) and marched our way down the avenue like explorers who had accidentally discovered… another tram terminus. Naturally, we turned left toward the port, strolled along the boardwalk, admired boats we absolutely cannot afford, and pretended we could tell yachts apart.

Right on cue, the familiar beacon of hope appeared: Samoa Café Del Puerto.

Since it was officially aperitif o’clock (a sacred time zone), we performed our civic duty and ordered cocktails. With spirits lifted (literally), we crossed into the old town in search of lunch and landed in tapas heaven at Titi Gourmet.

Everyone else sat outside; we chose indoors because warmth is a lifestyle choice. The tapas were… exactly what you’d expect tapas to be: dangerously moreish and absolutely capable of ruining dinner plans. No regrets.

The afternoon mission: culture. We headed back to the port for the Ocean Race Museo—free, fascinating, and alarmingly good at triggering big ideas.

The The Ocean Race is starting from Alicante in 2027, and suddenly I was plotting a future where I’m dramatically waving at elite sailors while pretending I know knots beyond “the annoying one in headphones.” Research will happen. At least one keen friend will be peer-pressured.

Then it was tram home, followed by the sacred daily nap (honestly, the true MVP of the trip) and another evening aperitif because consistency is key. Later, I binged a few episodes of Drive to Survive on Netflix—still more thrilling than actually watching last season’s Formula 1 races. I rounded off the night with a couple of generously sized whiskies and a solemn mental note to restock ASAP (future me is going to be furious).

Early bedtime for once, and just like that, week two of the escapade signed off. Clouds cleared, cocktails delivered, ambitions upgraded. Not a bad Day 14. 🍹

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