One evening I walked beyond Passeig de Colom on the wooden pathway that runs north through the ecological preserve of Els Muntanyans, hiking almost to the next seaside town of Creixell just as the sun set. I backtracked along the ocean relatively alone. Little development marred the seven kilometers of protected sand dunes and marshes that at one time covered the Catalan coast. The afterglow from the sunset over the city of Torredembarra and the surrounding hills was just amazing.
No need for a car, taxi or even public transportation here. The old city center is about two kilometers from my room at Hotel Morros. I restocked for evening wine and tapas on my balcony at a grocery store less than a kilometer away or bought fresh vegetables at a temporary produce stand in the plaza nearby. Everybody walks here – flocks of families, older couples, children – even after dark. No loud disco music or swarms of carousers. At night people actually remained quiet if out and about, not hollering to wake the dead at 3 a.m. like in Barcelona or Tossa de Mar. The few cars traveling at night drove slow and did not honk at every stray object. Even the train passing through town was relatively inconspicuous. I felt safe walking alone on the beach or through the city streets day and night.
Everyone engaged me and smiled patiently at my broken Spanish, from the Morrocan gentleman who served me cafe con leche every morning at the beachside cafe to the store clerk who could not believe I'd flown all the way from the United States to visit her town. My Spanish did not venture beyond my basic conversational blurbs, but c'est la vie! I was vexed by the mix of Catalan into the local dialect and signage, such as platja not playa, but I managed as most everyone here understood enough English to get by with the basics.
The first three nights I walked into town for festival activities after tapas. Some mornings I found a temporary fruit and vegetable stand in the plaza next to my hotel for my tapas, once using a halved-avocado to hold the salad dressing for dipping the lettuce, carrots and cucumbers. If I can wash my clothes in the hotel tub, certainly I can manage tapas on my hotel balcony without dishes.
I basked in the peace and quiet, reading on the beach or writing on the balcony and doing just exactly what I wanted to do, even if it was NOTHING! This part of the trip has been the epitome of Rest and Relaxation!
After I walked about 45 minutes on the rocky cliffside trail, the gray clouds started to sprinkle. I found shelter in a thick grove of trees just past the lighthouse. I waited awhile for the rain to let up before retracing my steps toward the hotel. The downpour grew heavier and drenched me. Rivers of muddy water streamed across the stone pathway. My soaked hat and beach wrap protected me from the pelting rain, but I worried about keeping my camera dry in my pocket.
The thunder roared louder and closer, jarring me into a frantic run. I reached La Terraza, a cafe on the cliff overlooking the beach of Torredembarra. The plastic chairs and tables on the covered patio signaled I could settle in dripping wet. The menu del dia was 17 euros, Hay caramba! I had to stay due to the weather. I lucked out as lunch included a full bottle of red wine plus a dessert called "whiskey torta," a slab of cake with whiskey poured over the top.
Then Mother Nature got nasty. Suddenly the wind and rain blasted, whipping the plastic awning in every direction and tossing empty chairs. The staff moved me and the other guests and our tables and chairs away from the patio's edge and lowered the awnings' wall curtains. The wind began howling even louder, blowing the walls of the plastic enclosure sideways and everyone quickly ducked inside. I clung to my glass and bottle of wine. The water poured onto the patio from every direction and the wind sent everything flying. I ate my meal and drank the rest of my wine in the tiny restaurant.
Eventually the tempest calmed, the other customers began leaving and I peeked outside to watch the storm. A huge lake had buried the once wide, sandy beach. Shoulders hunched, I fled the restaurant between cloudbursts, buffeted by the wind with only my limp, water-logged sunhat and saturated beach cover-up for protection. I scurried past tons of debris, including metal parts of window awnings. The road leading to town under the train tracks was full of water!
Overall, an exciting and beautiful day. If I had not had so many glorious days lying on the sand in the sun, I might have felt disappointed. I know the shopkeepers and restauranteurs were bummed and their dismay reminded me of the Hartsburg PSYCHO Depot, so weather dependent and depressing when it stormed on weekends. This was one of the last summer weekends for this seaside community and they were counting on it.
The following day arrived sunny with a slight breeze, so I steered for Tamarit Castle once again. The ocean had lost its clear, turquoise color, but its previously gentle waves had gained size and strength. In Platja del Canyadell I dove in to bodysurf. The cove set up a challenging current as waves crashed against the cliff on the western side before retreating eastward to collide with the swell hitting the beach from a southern angle. If you caught a wave you would either run into the rocks or the kids on rafts. Board surfers commandeered the point farther south at Platja d'Altafulla. I caught some great rides bodysurfing the waves of Platja d'Altafulla and Platja de Tamarit.
I finally reached Tamarit Castle, perched on a rocky outcropping overlooking the coastline. I would have stayed for menu del dia at one of the local restaurants along the boardwalk, but aggressive smouldering clouds from the mainland kept edging toward the coast. Instead I dined at a restaurant closer to home for a long siesta meal and the obligatory glass of wine.
On the Monday of my departure I moped through my routine, knowing it would be my last day in Torredembarra. The Morros Hotel allowed me to keep my room without any additional charge or fuss until I left at 8:30 in the evening for my overnight train to Granada.
I spent the day at the beach. The waves still curled perfectly for bodysurfing: gentle and easy although short rides. I lunched at my favorite restaurant, Bogaly d' Or, but had coffee at a different beach cafe than my usual Voramar because they did not open that morning. Fewer beachgoers compared with the week prior. The season had drawn to an end. Of all the wonderful places I've visited around the world, Torredembarra remains on my list to sample once again.
I loved my visit to Torredembarra, but I had grown too comfortable and needed to move on and try something different. I took the 9:30 Renfe Tren Hotel to Tarragona after more credit card drama as the woman at the hotel's reception desk did not know how to use the machine. I've started watching Game of Thrones, which is sort of pertinent to my travels as I'm visiting so many medieval castles, fortresses and cities with museums featuring antiquities and unfamiliar cultures. I took an Advil PM to help me sleep on the train, praying someone would wake me at 9 a.m. so I wouldn't miss my stop in Granada!