Day 11: Spanish border to Huelva

About 65 km.
Weather: ideal again.  Mid-70s and sunny.
Traffic: aside from an umnpleasnt stretch midday getting around Lepe, very light.
Bike: brakes need some attention.  Front rack needed adjustment.

A day of pleasant surprises for the most part.  I had expected this to be a bit of a slog, but the presence of a couple bike routes and paths turned what could have been a nightmare into a very pleasant experience.

The day broke clear and fair, and I had zero problems finding or using the pokey old ferry that got me across the river into Spain first thing this morning.  It dropped my off at Atatuya, a pleasant enough place with some nice buildings around a central plaza and a bullfighting ring on the hill.  Getting out of town, I avoided the busy main road in favor of following the edge of a national park- a large wetland with lots of interesting birds to keep me company.  Even better was the existence of a bike route like the one on the Portuguese coast I found yesterday.  Though kind of bumpy and sandy in spots, it sure beat dodging traffic, and there were lots of things to look at as I wound my way through strawberry fields, peach and orange orchards, and large areas of of natural wetland.

The estuary pinches all roads north at one point, so I was forced onto a busy street around and through the gritty town of Lepe.  I will say that Lepe has an impressive bike lane loop through the downtown that made it easier and much more fun to go through town.  After that it was up and down  some very nicely paved  but lightly traveled new country roads until I got to the point I dreaded- a section of freeway up the estuary and across the river into Huelva.  Very fortunately, there was a long-distance bike path along the freeway for this very purpose called the "Camino Verde" (green road)- a very nice bike path painted green the whole way that took me the last 20 km into Huelva.  Apparently, it joins Huelva to a popular beach about 30km south from the city, but whatever its reason for existence, I would like to buy its creators a cerveca. 

I thus pleasantly toodled into Huelva, found a hostel I had previously researched (a great barn of a place in a beautiful 19th century building with its 60 or so dorm rooms on 3 levels all opening into an enclosed plaza space in the middle.  Though I paid for a dorm bed, again I got the room to myself.). Huelva isn't really all that interesting of a city, especially by Andalucian standards, but that was sort of a relief in that I didn't feel pressured to run out and see lots of stuff.  Instead, I wandered the streets around the hostel, and was delighted by the everyday city life of a random Spanish city.  Like in South America, it seems like people here are much less content to sit around their homes at night, and as the sun goes down, the streets mill with people just out socializing.  The public sphere at night also seems to involve a lot more kids than in the US-  it doesn't appear taboo in either Spain or Portugal to bring your kids to a restaurant or mellow bar and have the adults hang out together while the kids play.  (This is the third time, too, that I have seen a toddler's birthday party held in a bar).  This deserves consideration, America.

Another interesting factor from my whole one day in Spain is the decrease in English spoken, and the necessity for me to wheel out my terrible high school Spanish.  However, I am very happy to say I have completed several conversations such as:

"Good evening, sir.  I hunger and would like a beer.  Is there menu?"
"This is a pet store. Try that tapas place over there."
"I see.  Good evening, friend."

I also need to figure out certain social challenges, such as the difference in what businesses provide what.  Happily, in Spain, there exist recognizable grocery stores(strange only on that a major item for sale as you walk in are massive dried pig legs) so I can get breakfast and lunch stuff easily and cheaply.  But there are mystifying ones- such as the "juice bars", which like the omnipresent "snack bars" of Portugal, sell pastries, espresso, a full range of alcohol, but also add dried pig leg as an option.  I got the impression in Portugal that the people must live primarily on custard tarts, espresso, and tiny cups of sherry, since these places were everywhere, and always containing at least a few old men who eyed me suspiciously.  (Though the hairy eyeball seems to be more a constant of old men than nationality- the US equivalent would probably be a small hardware store).

A good night's sleep in the hostel, and it's off to Sevilla tomorrow.  Everyone has been telling me how fantastic it is the while trip, and I am excited to see it and take a couple true rest days/while there!