Altea Old Town

After shopping, we had dips in the ocean, enjoyed by all, and then wandered back for showers in shifts. Leila and Deana hung at the beach while Tim and Blair took the first turn in the shower. Nap time followed showers, and then I started this blog, which has been more of a challenge than I want it to be. We're getting ready for a walk up the hill to Old Town.

Old Town of Altea is elevated high above where we are, no doubt to discourage aged tourists from attempting the ascent. However, our hearty crew, rested and clean, dressed for adventure, headed off for the climb.

The walk to the summit was really nice, albeit punctuated by periodic rest stops to get aching hips under control.The climb was a matter of picking openings in walls and ascending stairways that promised to take us higher. Occasionally turning around and beholding new views over the town and ocean, we eventually reached the summit, where people seemed to be collecting in larger and larger numbers, poised for some event. At the top, we encountered the church, a focal point of the Old Town. 

 After cruising the alleyways once through, we decided we should do something proactive toward consuming something. Deana voted for ice cream as a starting course, so we stopped in at a little shop that Blair declared received the highest marks for any restaurant in Old Town. Seemed mostly a dessert shop, but their gelato was delicious. We sat at a little table out front on the sidewalk and licked away as humanity passed by on their way to whatever it was going to be in the little Old Town square, dominated by the Church of the Virgin del Consuelo Altea. Another dominant feature of the square was a sprawling café populated by tourists drinking beer, eating things that almost looked like pizza (apparently, Spaniards consider that if you’re an American, you eat pizza. Cafes that don’t offer pizza  go so far as to warn you when you sit down that they don’t have pizza, just in case that was the only reason you chose their little eatery.)

Something was clearly afoot for this evening in their square. They had an elaborate sound stage set up against the wall of the church, and vendors of balloons and cheesy touristy type kid toys were poised for deployment. One kid had a squirt gun with a water backpack that was so cool I wanted one to take back for Aodhagan, but Leila vetoed the idea…..no room in the luggage, plus I’d probably be detained at customs for suspiciously concealed weaponry.

After ice cream, we wandered around some more, waiting for the time when a restaurant would allow us to enter. We proceeded to hunt for the perfect place to eat. Lots of very delightful restaurants with seating that overlooked the mountains and seaside. It was about 6:30, and in the Spanish world, that’s closer to lunch time than dinner. None of the restaurants opened before 7:00, and the really cool ones didn’t open until 8:00. However, right around 7:00, a fellow dressed in black, holding a menu in his hand, was summoning people to enter his establishment, which had a magnificent dining deck, elevated above the street. We happily followed him up the stairs to the rooftop dining area, where he proceeded to boast about how cool his place was and offered us a table for 4. We ordered drinks and decided to try the tapas they offered as a 2nd course to our dining out.

Deana and Blair had tonic with lime, and Leila and Tim ordered beer...one Heineken and one local brew called Althaia.

While enjoying our tapas, a commotion in the streets below sounded like some kind of celebration getting underway. Looking over the railing to the street way below we witnessed a parade of sorts, a truck full of orange clad children, and someone with a water hose spraying everyone. A band was playing, and they eventually came into view…they didn’t get sprayed so much. We learned that this was the beginning of some celebration, that would culminate in the square, with young men climbing a rope or something in some kind of competition. By the time we left the tapas place, the crowds at the square were growing.
After Tapas, we wandered around some more working our way to the wicked classy restaurant that had tables on an outside terrace with a spectacular view of Altea and the Med. This restaurant was one that had a sign suggesting they opened at 6:00. When we tried entering the first time the young woman who greeted us looked confused when we asked to be seated. She kindly suggested coming back at 8:00. This time we were greeted warmly and shown a table for four and informed that we had to vacate the table by 11:00, as it was reserved for that time. There was no one else in the restaurant, so we weren’t sure why this particular table had conditions attached, but we weren’t worried. Unlike the Spaniards, we were likely to be finished by 8:45, or close to that, depending on how quickly they served us.
Deana and Blair chose duck dishes, and L&T both chose the pricey steak offering, medium rare. Tim got a miniature bottle of red wine, taking Blair’s advice that when in Spain, drink Spanish wine. It was excellent advice.

Something about the Spanish food had Leila growing a second pair of hands. Very curious.

Food was presented in artistic display, like gourmet places would do. Not a lot of food covering the plates. The setting made the meal very satisfying, the food had a hard time keeping up with the same standard, but we didn’t complain.

After dinner, we strolled back to our digs for a quiet ending of our day…a very fine day indeed.

Here's a few more pictures giving the flavor of the climb to Old Town and our time spent wandering the alleyways, browsing the shops, and trying to decide where we'd eat.