Thought we’d pop into Tossa town to see if it’s still a 70’s/80’s style resort. Reception have told us the bus stops at the top of the hill and after sweating a bucket load getting up there we can’t locate the damn bus stop.
Having established with the reception of a campsite nearby that we are in the right spot, we were stood by the side of the road like a right couple of lemons when a beat up military style vehicle pulls over and offers us a lift in to Tossa.
Kataleen is Spanish with excellent English, and as she drives us down into Tossa she tells us she’s currently renovating a house up in the hills. Her driving is in the style of ‘Speedy Gonzalez’ but we’re grateful for the lift and she’s also pointed out where we catch the bus back to camp.
Tossa Centro is all we’d though it would be, crammed with tourists. Not the Club 18-30 types but mostly families on their hols. The beach is packed like a tin of sardines and the sea full of bobbing lilo’s and small boats. Our eyes are smarting from the cost of boat rental, €300 for ½ a day… how much? We’d actually want to own the damn vessel for that amount of wonga.
Tossa does have a cultural area mixed in with the souvenir shops, bars and restaurants. There’s a museum, art gallery and an old walled area of the town on the headland but again it’s super busy with visitors.
On Saturday we are sat outside GerTee having brekkie, peering at our Dutch neighbours peering at us… nosey parkers. We’ve been deliberating two points; 1. do we go into Lloret de Mar today, and 2. if we do go shall we cut our stop here to 3 nights and depart tomorrow. Decisions, decisions, as we fear Lloret is probably a bigger, brasher version of Tossa, we have gone with option 2.
This means Sunday job’s are brought forward a day to include de-squeaking our drop down bed, followed by an afternoon of relaxation and pondering how the hell we are going to get off our pitch without further injury to poor GerTee or knocking down a tugger’s safari room, watch this space folks.