A Perfect Day in Cadiz

It was one of those “perfect” days. The kind of day one starts in a good mood and during which good things happen. We drove to Cadiz down a long sandy spit with a big Atlantic sea pounding the beach. It was grey and misty, but the sunlight down here in Southern Spain is so strong that the clouds were still bright and luminous and every now and then a shaft of silver light would break through and flash off some distant windows.

Cadiz is almost an island and as it grew on the shipping trade from the Mediterranean and the Indies it had nowhere to go but up. A typical dwelling has a warehouse at the bottom, apartments on the middle floors and a tower above from which the ocean could be scanned for the returning fleets. Looking up at one of these towers I could imagine an anxious merchant willing a galleon to coalesce out of the haze.

Now although Cadiz is still a busy port with ferries coming and going to North Africa, it feels like a tourist city, with guided walks everywhere and labels on everything of “interest”. We visited on a public holiday and so the place was full of tourists and locals out for a stroll. Wandering around the grid of narrow streets Sue and I searched for comparisons and found many familiar things, here a bit of the Brighton Pavilion, there something of San Malo or Venice.

After four or five hours we drove back down the sandy spit and headed for our hotel further down the coast. Yes, it had been a good day we acknowledged. Though it’s strange how much more memorable bad days can be. Best write it down.