Vigo Splish Splash And Get Sun-Kissed

It’s raining. If one’s lucky to be there when the first drops fall, one will catch the smell of rain on dusty tar, and it’s just amazing. In Redondela, we took deep breaths of the rainy air; it was heaven, but not quite like our African rain. Here, we smell dust, dry grass, and the blue of water drops. Sometimes, if one’s lucky, one can even smell the animals roaming across the plains. We didn’t expect rain, and we didn’t mind. After unpacking all our rain gear and bedecking ourselves, we would be off to Vigo—a welcome relief.

As a South African, you might understand my reluctance to hand over my camera, my pride and joy, to a stranger who offered to take our photograph. I had to swallow my pride and do it, trusting him to do the job and not run away with it. How cynical we've become. All my fears were unwarranted, as they would be here too, I'm sure.

We’d spend two nights in Vigo, in Galicia. Depending on where you point your lens, Vigo is either a historic, cultured city or a gritty industrial port. Home to Europe's largest fishing fleet, it is a hub of commerce in northern Spain. Yet its central areas are very walkable, full of intriguing nooks and winding cobbled lanes, and it's the main gateway to the breathtaking Illas Cíes, a group of islands renowned for their pristine beaches and crystal-clear waters. Above all,

Vigo is a welcoming, buoyant, commercial city. Shops showcasing up-to-the-minute designs in homeware, clothing, and shoes are plentiful. Here, citizens know how to enjoy life, especially after dark in the many buzzing tapas bars, restaurants, music bars, and clubs. I loved how locals dressed up in the evenings to go out. Beautifully dressed ladies in high heels. All the things I love about summer. 

The Casco Vello (Old Town) climbs uphill from the cruise-ship port; the heart of the modern city spreads east from here, with Praza de Compostela a welcome green space in its midst. At dawn, I'd be up with my camera in hand and set off to see the city before it unfurls for the day—quiet streets, with just the occasional person about.

It was while we were waiting for our ferry to Islas Cíes that thousands of passengers disembarked from their cruise ship. Tourists literally swamped the city; they poured into every cobbled street, flooded every café, and, like someone starving, grabbed, pushed and shoved their way into the small stalls and touristy shops to spend their money. It was mayhem. This Tsunami of tourists put the final X on any ambitions I might’ve had to go on a cruise. It will not happen.

Getting onto the ferry was another eye-opener; standing in line patiently, waiting your turn, does not seem to happen. No, it’s like a mini running of the bulls in Pamplona; when the gates opened, it was every man for himself. To avoid chaos, arrive early and stay alert. Fortunately, we managed to get ourselves seated after being trampled, pushed and shoved. The beach was calling!

Lise couldn’t wait to throw herself down onto the beautiful white beach. I had to do some exploring, so I went for a leisurely walk along the boardwalk. I was fascinated by the “camping” set-up; tents are permanently pitched, which makes sense, as all equipment has to be ferried over from the mainland. It was amusing to see couples trekking all the way with camping chairs, cool boxes, umbrellas, hats and baskets, all of which had to be taken back later. A few ancient-looking cottages are still dotted around the island, and there is a shop selling things tourists have left at home. We had no beach towel, but our kikois would have to suffice. At EU18, I wasn't going to indulge.

A large, well-run canteen-style diner serves delicious, simple local meals: the usual fish and chips, calamari and chips, salads, various baked goodies, a few pasta dishes, plus pre-packaged snacks, cool drinks, beer, wine, and coffee. As options are sold out, they’re removed from the blackboard. We were the last to get a good helping of their delicious calamari and battered fish. Priced reasonably.

I had hardly spread my napkin on my lap when a huge gull swooped down, trying to help itself to my meal. I then noticed people feeding the huge flock of gulls. This, of course, didn’t help, as they’ve become irritating scavengers. While I swatted and swore, I managed to gulp down a few crispy golden morsels. It’s a shame tourists feed them, as they're despised now.

After lunch, Lise and I napped in a secluded cove, away from the crowds. A loud gaggle of American tourists, fresh off the ferry, soon shattered our reverie. I sat up and gaped open-mouthed at them. Never in all my born days have I encountered such blatant disregard for others as they took over our beach.

They were arrogant, rude, loud and bombastic. In their defence, I later conceded, they were there to show off their American identity to their reserved families left behind in Spain. Fortunately, they couldn’t stay long; their cruise ship would be leaving, and they had an appointment at the Captain’s table! 

Like all days spent on the beach, we loved the tingly feeling of too much sun; we had sand in our hair, and our bodies smelled of the ocean and sunblock.  As the sun turned golden, we headed back to the ferry.  A much quieter crowd this time.  We were all feeling drowsy from a day in the sun. 

Supper was to be at the Othilio Bar Restaurant – we arrived at 21h00 to find it fully booked! Our disappointment brought the chef out of the kitchen, where he agreed to have us sit outside at an extra table; we were delighted! Moments later, the server arrived to tell us that a couple with a reservation had heard our story and were offering us their table inside, and would take ours! They were adamant. We had a tremendous meal. Each course surpassed the previous one; dessert was the climax, of course! We swooned.

According to my diary, we enjoyed all our meals in Vigo, where there is really a choice of restaurants. The meal we had at the Tapas Bar 78 Gastro Bar was superb too; I dipped into Lise's spicy tomato sauce, surreptitiously helping myself to half her potato chips. My risotto was heavenly. I could even indulge in a cupcake, and we enjoyed ice cream occasionally too.

Although our path is clearly laid out, we sometimes need to veer off, take a breath and enjoy our surroundings before continuing. We were ready for bed; we had an exciting day ahead. Butch was flying in, and we had to get to the airport in time.

P.S. Butch was stressed about travelling with his Nordic walking poles and, after much thought, decided to order a new pair on Amazon. Even in Euros, they were reasonably priced. He would have them delivered to our hotel. Risky, we thought. No problem for Amazon; when we arrived at our hotel, they were neatly stacked against the lift walls. Brilliant!