During the day there wasn’t a great deal to do except to visit the beaches and spend endless pointless hours sunbathing.  Benidorm is famous for its two main beaches which stretch for four kilometres all along the bay.  The city enjoys a unique geographical position on the east coast of Spain because it actually faces due south and has two stunningly beautiful beaches on the Mediterranean Sea that stretch out either side of the old town, on the east the Levante, the sunrise, and to the west the Poniente, the sunset, and it enjoys glorious sunshine all day long. 

Even though the Blue Flag award wasn’t initiated until 1987 the beaches really were excellent with soft golden sand and a gentle shelf leading down into the warm sea.  Since its introduction Benidorm had prided itself on the award and the quality of its beaches but then in 2009 there was a calamity and although the Poniente and Mal Pas were confirmed the Levante was removed from the list.  The news of the loss of the blue flag status, previously considered to have some of the best sand in the world, was a bombshell for Benidorm.  The town council, which is in charge of the beaches complained that the decision was unfair because the analysis took place after there had been a lot of rain which had caused turbulence in the water but the blue flag organisation couldn’t be persuaded.  The authorities are determined to rectify this and the beach is almost certain to be reinstated to blue flag status in 2010.

I hope the Levante gets its flag back because It is an interesting fact that Spain has more blue flag beaches than any other participating country with four hundred and ninety nine in five thousand kilometres of coastline, the United Kingdom by comparison, has only one hundred and forty-four in nearly eighteen thousand kilometres.  Greece has the second most blue flags at four hundred and thirty and France is third with two hundred and thirty-eight.

Behind the beaches were the wide Promenades, the palm fringed backdrop to the golden sand with flowing patterned tiles that provided a route for the inevitable tourist train (I really hate those tourist trains) and a thoroughfare from one end of the beach to the other with all of the sidestreets leading to hotels and tucked away bars.  Benidorm has a unigue urban pattern because in 1954, the Mayor, Pedro Zaragoza Orts created the Plan General de Ordenación, or city building plan to you and me, that ensured that every building would have an area of leisure land, guaranteeing a future free of the excesses of cramped construction seen in other areas of Spain and it is the only city in the country that still adheres to this rigid rule.  This vision for the future sparked the building boom that followed and the flying start that Benidorm achieved in the package tour boom of the 1960’s and 70s.

Inbetween the two magnificent beaches was the old town and this really was the best part of Benidorm.  Here in the twisting narrow streets hemmed in by claustrophobic whitewhased buildings it was possible to imagine what the town must have been like in the past as small fishing village as we walked around the old town, the San Jaime church with its distinctive blue tiled hat roofs, the old town promontory with the Balcon Del Mediterraneo, and pretty Mal Pas beach below situated in between the Levante and the Poniente.  Benidorm castle was thought to have been built on this rock around 1325.  The castle survived until 1812, but now there are no signs of the ruins.  Inland from the promontory Benidorm’s old town narrow streets were a joy to wander around, vibrant and continuously busy they were dotted with bars, restaurants and tourist shops that never seemed to close.

There was only so much time that we could spend on the beach and walking around the old town, there was the Wednesday market that we visited (twice)  but to be honest there wasn’t a great deal more to do so filling fourteen days was a bit of a challenge.  About three kilometres out in the bay was the little island of Isla Benidorm, a triangular shaped chunk of inhospitable rock with a regular ferry boat running across for just a few pesetas each.  There was so little to do that we made the trip twice and really once would have been quite enough.  It was advertised as ‘Peacock Island’ but all we found there were a few scraggy chickens trying to get by in a very hostile landscape without any vegetation or water.  Fortunately there was a bar on the island with really good views back towards the mainland so at least there was somewhere to sit and have a drink while we waited for the ferry to return.  On one of the trips we met Tanya and Steve from Blackpool and we shared a table, struck up conversation and agreed to meet up one evening for a meal.  Today Isla Benidorm is being developed as a wild bird sanctuary so maybe there are a few more species there than those few pathetic chickens?

¿Quien no recuerda el Caño Morante? Desapareció ayer mismo, cuando urbanizaron la zona de Villa de Prado. ¿Qué hubiera costado mantener el caño? Claro que tal vez hubiera sido imposible debido a las cimentaciones de los edificios próximos. Aunque su zona se encuentra despejada. Estaba junto a una hilera de árboles y arbustos, a la izquierda del camino viejo de Zaratán y pegado al arroyo Madre, también urbanizado, o sea, canalizado.
En su lugar vemos ahora una perfecta y cuidada artificial fontana de broncíneo caño…  que no da una gota de agua. O que la dará con sabor a cloro.

Si el Caño se esfumaba ayer, la fuente del Poniente desapareció hace una hora escasa. Sobrevivió a la urbanización del paseo de las Moreras, a la construcción del puente, a la obra del dique, a… Pero hicieron este invierno el colector bajo el paseo y el simpático caño con sonriente cara de pez se secó. ¿Quién se va a preocupar de salvar una humilde fuente? No parece que vuelva a manar más agua, así que caerá en el olvido sin remisión.

La fuente de la Galera o de Piedras Negras también ha desaparecido. La construcción de la ronda le dio la puntilla y donde estuvo vemos ahora una zona encharcada en la que sobreviven espadañas.

También murió la fuente del Seminario situada, como su propio nombre indica, en la ribera del Pisuerga, tras el Seminario. Gozaba de un agua y ambiente fresco, gracias a la cobertura arbolada. Hicieron la senda y ajardinamiento del parque Ribera de Castilla y…  ¡desapareció!

¡Qué tarde tan frescas y agradables pasaban, hace no muchos años, los vecinos de Valladolid –particularmente de la Rubia-  junto a los generosos caños de la fuente del Verdugo! Pero ya no existe. Infraestructuras y escombros pudieron con ella. Queda un muro en el que puede observarse una anilla utilizada para atracar la barquilla de algún pescador. Estaba detrás de Bodegas Hermógenes, junto a la desembocadura del arroyo Espanta, hoy canalizado.

• Quedan en la memoria

Los mayores del barrio de la Victoria recuerdan que junto al estribo Oeste del Puente Mayor –una a cada lado- hubo dos fuentes. Se podía bajar  por unas espléndidas escaleras de piedra, también desaparecidas. Una de ellas se alimentaba con una canalización de la fuente el Sol.
Y también recuerdan que junto al derrame del Canal hubo otras dos fuentes: la primera donde hoy se levanta el edificio frente de la Concha, al otro lado de la avenida, y la otra a la altura del parque de Bomberos.

Para terminar mencionamos también las fuentes de Casasola y otra cercana al poblado de Tafisa, que por el momento no hemos encontrado y tal vez ya no existen.

Ver el mapa de fuentes

]]> http://mispanoramicas.wordpress.com/2009/08/04/puente/ Tue, 04 Aug 2009 21:02:10 +0000 naolita http://mispanoramicas.wordpress.com/2009/08/04/puente/

Arriving in Benidorm we left the motorway and found a free parking place with ridiculous ease and with the anticipation of severe culture shock rising to boiling point we made straight for the western end of the Poniente beach.  Almost immediately it was a huge let down.  We had been expecting tat shops and British pubs, the distinctive smell of Hawaiian tropic, fat bellied lager louts with tattoos and peroxide Essex blondes with fake designer sunglasses but there was none of that sort of thing at all.  Instead the beach was a very civilised affair with predominantly elderly Spanish people sedately enjoying the sun and a few British left overs from the winter Saga tours where the length of stay could be measured directly in degrees of orange tan, and there were some very carroty people here indeed!  One man had so much tanning oil on his body as he laid out in the sun that if we had had a few rashers of bacon and some eggs then we could have cooked ourselves a full English on his back.

I have to say that Benidorm was nothing like what I was anticipating at all but was really rather pleasant and the beaches were immense and spectacular with beautiful clean sand and blue flags flapping proudly in the breeze.  It is an interesting fact that Spain has more blue flag beaches than any other participating country with four hundred and ninety nine in five thousand kilometres of coastline, the United Kingdom by comparison, has only one hundred and forty-four in nearly eighteen thousand kilometres.  Greece has the second most blue flags at four hundred and thirty and France is third with two hundred and thirty-eight.  Clearly the United Kingdom needs to get cleaning up!

We walked the entire two-kilometre length of the Poniente and by the time we reached the old town harbour and elevated promontory we had pretty much given up on finding anything to snigger about.  In the old town itself there were more Spanish tapas bars than British pubs and there was a notable absence of those awful bars with tacky pictures of the food on the menu.  I really hate that!  I know what bacon and eggs looks like and I know what spaghetti Bolognese looks like (or what it should look like) and what I also know is that these pictures generally bear absolutely no resemblance to what you are likely to get if you are desperate enough to order it.  There was not a bit of it and after wandering around the old town searching unsuccessfully for cheap souvenir shops we had to finally admit defeat and sit in a bar on the seafront and have the first beer of the day. 

If Benidorm was a surprisingly nice place then the old town was an especially nice place with a blue domed church, reminiscent of those in the Greek islands, and a pedestrianised area that was positively delightful.  I remembered this from my visit thirty years ago but not much else I have to say and with refreshment time over we walked a short way along the Levante in search of what we were sure was the real Benidorm from the television series but without success we called a halt to the expedition and retraced our steps back to the car.  Although we were disappointed not to see what we had come for it was a pleasant surprise and we left with the confirmation that despite the tourists that flock in every summer that Benidorm is a very real Spanish town, with Spanish culture and a Spanish history of tuna fishermen and merchant sailors that was actually quite plain to see.  I wished that I had grasped that in 1977 because if I had then I am sure that I would have enjoyed it more then.

All along the sea front there was a programme of environmental improvements that when completed will make Benidorm a place worth visiting and I might even consider it myself in the future in my Saga years.   Back at the car we drove back to the motorway, paid the toll and left the mountains of Valencia and motored south back to the scrub of Murcia.  We tried to be a bit clever on the way back and see if we could get closer to home before leaving the motorway close to the toll but this went spectacularly wrong when we ran out of exits and ended up paying another €3.70 in road tolls which may not sound a lot but to put things into perspective was the equivilent of about ten bottles of San Miguel at the Mercadona supermarket!

On a golfing holiday with my brother and our sons we all agreed that being only a hundred kilometres away was an excellent opportunity to visit the notorious city of Benidorm and see it for ourselves.  Actually I have to confess to having been to Benidorm before because I spent a fortnight there in 1977 at the Don Juan Hotel, which has been renamed now but was somewhere along the Avenida del Mediterráneo at the back of the Levante beach.  Two weeks in Benidorm was a very long time as I remember so I was happy that this time it was going to be restricted to a couple of hours or so.

We set off early after breakfast on what started out in the best morning weather of the whole week and we travelled the sixty kilometres to Alicante under big blue skies.  This part of the journey took a bit longer than was strictly necessary because we were determined to by-pass the motorway tolls and early on in the trip we got snagged up in market day traffic in the nearby town of Saint Miguel.  Once safely past the tolls we picked up speed and motored effortlessly along the A7 Autopista del  Mediterráneo travelling north-east through what has to be said is not the best part of Spain in respect of scenery.  The land is flat and unattractive with hectares of dusty and barren scrubby land running down to the coast and disappearing into massive salt lakes that obviously aren’t terribly conducive to supporting fertile arable fields. 

Around about Alicante as the  motorway sweeps past the city the landscape changes dramatically however almost as soon as soon as it passes from the Province of Murcia to the Province of Valencia and the scrub gives way to large dark grey deep fissured mountains that rise dramatically from the flat plains.  Sadly we discovered that there is a price to pay for better scenery and there was no way of avoiding a toll that appeared from nowhere and cost us €5.15 for the second leg of the journey.  We were annoyed about that but on reflection it was much easier than using the congested old coast road.

As we passed Villajoyosa on the coast and the one thousand four hundred metre high Puig Campana Mountain to the west we suddenly got our first view of Benidorm and the unique skyline formed by its numerous tall hotels and apartment buildings, which is quite unlike anything else on the Costa Blanca, to such an extent that it is sometimes referred to as the ‘Manhattan of Spain’ or ‘Beniyork’ and I have to confess to being struck by the first sight of Benidorm which was quite a surprise. I didn’t remember it like this and one moment we were driving through brown barren hills when suddenly there it was looking like Kuala Lumpur or Monaco on the Costa Blanca with columns of concrete and glass all shining bright and looking impressive in the bright sunshine.

According to the 2004 census Benidorm has a permanent population of sixty-five thousand inhabitants but the population grows by almost ten times to half a million in the summer.  It therefore needs a lot of hotel rooms to cater for all the additional people because it is one of the most important holiday resorts in all of Spain.  One million three hundred thousand holidaymakers annually visit Benidorm from Britain alone.  

The city enjoys a unique geographical position on the east coast of Spain because it faces due south and has two stunningly beautiful beaches on the Mediterranean Sea that stretch for about four kilometres either side of the old town, on the east the Levante, or sunrise, and to the west the Poniente, the sunset, and it enjoys glorious sunshine all day long.  In 1954, the Mayor, Pedro Zaragoza Orts saw the potential of the place and created the Plan General de Ordenación, or city building plan to you and me, that ensured that every building would have an area of leisure land, guaranteeing a future free of the excesses of cramped construction seen in other areas of Spain and it is the only city in the country that still adheres to this rigid rule.  This vision for the future sparked the building boom that followed and the flying start that Benidorm achieved in the package tour boom of the 1960’s and 70s.

Until the tourist industry began in the 1960s, Benidorm was a small fishing village that had remained unchanged for hundreds of years.  In the early 1960s my grandparents visited Benidorm several times in the first days of package holidays and came home with exotic stories and suitcases full of unusual souvenirs, flamenco dancing girls, matador dolls and velour covered bulls that decorated their living room and collected dust for the next twenty years or so.  One thing for sure is that they would have found Benidorm a totally different place to what it is today. 

Photographed by Eduardo Amorim

"…Hoje, a cada noite, as luas andejas
vêm brincar com as estrelas
no espelho pampeano
das águas do açude…
E, no silêncio das noites calmas,
há um místico guitarrear do vento
nos bordões do juncal…
Talvez harmonizando canções
em memória daqueles que gastaram vida
pra fechar o rodeio das águas
onde muitas vidas vieram morar…
Onde se banham as almas saudosas
daqueles que, borcando
a mariposa da vida,
deixaram uma taipa
larga de lembranças
e um vazio enorme
em seu lugar…"

Trecho de "O açude", de Eron Vaz Mattos
Pelotas, Rio Grande do Sul, Brasil

– License

Eso es vida

Atencion Inversionistas

Conjunto Departamental en Hermosillo Sonora

Al Poniente de la Ciudad, Boulevard San Bernardino.

Conjunto con 8 Departamentos, Alberca y Estacionamientos.
$900,000 Dolares

Informes y Ventas

Martin Varela Rivera
Asesor Inmobiliario
Celular: 044-6621-394041
Correo; martin@dinsa.com.mx

Imagen: Mito de Flor Garduño.

Despierta en medio de una habitación. Está totalmente vestido. La estancia en la que se encuentra le resulta familiar. No sabe cómo ha llegado, ni qué hace allí. La piel le arde, se deshace de su chaqueta y de la camisa. Su cuerpo presenta heridas profundas a modo de zarpazos. La ropa no presenta ni un rasguño. Intenta no entrar en pánico. Busca su diario de viaje, lo localiza sobre el escritorio. Lo abre a partir del día anterior y lee buscando una explicación.

Día 13

10:05
Aprovecho para escribir desde el Regional destino Oviedo. Allí me encontraré con Miguel Barona, doctor en antropología social. No he tenido la oportunidad de conocerlo en persona. Sí por medio de sus investigaciones y mediante correspondencia.
Deseo conocer sus opiniones respecto al avance en mi investigación.
Aprovecharé el trayecto en tren para revisar mis notas. Atrás quedan Palencia, León y Ponferrada.

12:50
Llego a la estación de Oviedo. La ciudad me transmite algo difícil de explicar en palabras. A las 13:30 he quedado en verme con Barona. Daré un paseo.

17:05
El encuentro ha ido mejor, incluso, de lo esperado. Estuvimos hablando durante casi todo el tiempo de la transmisión de mitos populares a través de las generaciones.
Tomamos el cercanías hasta Gijón, almorzamos y me emplaza para mañana. Ahora pondré rumbo al hostal. Tiene unas vistas inmejorables, justo en frente de San Lorenzo, y de ahí el mar.

18:30
Algo extraño me sucede. Creo que sólo se trata de cansancio acumulado. La cabeza comienza a martillar. Tomaré algún analgésico.
He recorrido el casco antiguo. Es una ciudad evocadora. El Cantábrico tiene algo que no he visto en otro lugar, a pesar de que vengo de una ciudad costera.
Sigo mi camino por la playa de Poniente, subo por Cimadevilla hasta los acantilados. Me detengo en el cerro de Santa Catalina. El verde lo inunda todo, es algo que impresiona y de repente se pierde en el lacerante azul. De aquí voy dirección al ayuntamiento, paseo entre los edificios, me siento extraño, una extrañeza familiar. Llego al parque Isabel la Católica y es cuando comienzo a dudar de mi estado mental.

23:45
Si alguien leyera estas palabras pensará que mis facultades mentales no son plenas.
Es definitivo, el cansancio y la investigación están haciendo mella en mi cordura.
Me encuentro en la habitación del hostal. No me parece tan acogedora como antes.
El viento golpea las ventanas, es como si alguien intentara apuñalarme desde fuera.
Tras pasear por la ciudad, la cena. La cena resultó satisfactoria aunque no he conseguido apartar la nube de mi cabeza.

Tras el extraño incidente del parque me he comenzado a sentir perseguido. También comencé a visionar sombras en la periferia de mi campo visual. Lo achaco al cansancio, los viajes, no he parado en doce días.
Tras abandonar la sidrería, a la que había llegado tras la cena, paseo entre la penumbra. Los edificios que esta tarde parecían brillar, me transmiten una sensación de desamparo que me hace sentir frágil. El frío pone sede entre mis huesos, aunque incomprensiblemente  mi piel arde. Otra vez esa sensación de sentirme perseguido me atenaza. Entro en la primera taberna que veo, comienzo a sudar.
Me siento en la barra y pido un trago buscando la ansiada calma. El tabernero es un paisano . Se percata de mi estado y me pregunta. Le digo que sí a todo. Entablamos conversación y pregunta sobre mi procedencia. Es fácil percatarse de que no pertenezco a este lugar. Entre frase y frase comienzo a examinar la estancia. Es él quien habla, no parará. Diferentes figuras talladas en madera e innumerables óleos adornan la estancia. La luz me parece cada vez más escasa. Algunos cuadros me suenan, se corresponden con diversas localizaciones que he conocido a lo largo de la tarde. Al llegar a uno de los cuadros me estremezco.
Una mujer desnuda con la mirada perdida, ojos de azabache, pelo negro, largo muy largo, no sabría traducir su gesto. Sujeta el cuello de un cisne entre sus manos. Al preguntar sobre el cuadro, el paisano, cuenta que ya estaba allí cuando adquirió el local. Me dice algo del propietario anterior, ahora me cuesta seguirlo ya que mezcla palabras en castellano con otras propias del dialecto de la zona. Sin embargo sabe lo que representa y me cuenta la leyenda de Esmeralda.

Esmeralda era una joven y bella carbonera. Nadie supo nunca de su pasado, apenas se sabía de ella. Aunque, como en este tipo de historias, siempre hay alguien que sabe o se inventa los datos que se desconocen.
A menudo se la veía pasear por la orilla de la playa, trazaba extraños símbolos en la arena -afirma-. Dicen que hizo un pacto con un demonio. Se desconoce la razón.
De lo que sí está seguro mi interlocutor es que a partir de aquí, la historia no varía.
Un día llegó un extranjero al que se le vio acompañado de Esmeralda, que parecía otra persona, ye lo que tiene el amor -comenta el paisano-. Pasaron semanas, y ese extranjero desapareció. Nunca se le volvió a ver. Desde entonces Esmeralda parecía sumida en un extraño letargo. Aseguran que a menudo se la veía en una laguna cercana, acompañada de los cisnes. Cuando llegó la época de migración desapareció. No así su recuerdo pues hay quienes aseguran que la han vuelto a ver, desnuda, junto a un enorme cisne. Y eso no es todo, quien la ha visto -asegura- no vuelve a ser el mismo.

Tras la historia, un último trago y me despido. Pongo rumbo a esta habitación y transcribo el resto de la tarde y noche.
Pensaría que todo es ficción pero, esta tarde a las 18:30 he visto en el parque, Isabel la Católica, ese rostro inexpresivo y esos ojos azabache entre las espadañas ,sujetaba entre sus manos el níveo y extenso cuello de un cisne.

23:59
Llaman a la puerta…

Se Vende Casa en Racquet Club II.

Al Poniente de Hermosillo, Racquet Club. Hermosa y Elegante Residencia de 600m2 de Construccion en un terreno de 700m2.

Tres recamaras con baño vestidor cada uno, Jardin terraza asador.

Valor: $7,000,000

Informes y Ventas.
Martin Varela Rivera
Asesor Inmobiliario

Celular: 0446621.394041
Correo: martin@dinsa.com.mx
Pagina: www.dinsa.com.mx

Disponibilidad y precio pueden cambiar sin previo aviso

DINSA inmobiliaria pone a sus ordenes sus mas de 20 años de expereincia en el ramo de los Bienes Raices.
Hermosillo, Sonora . Mexico