The child in me (or maybe just the escapist) loves staying
in hotels – the clean, ironed sheets; the compelling, overwhelming obligation
to do nothing; and the simple novelty of being away from home. I think that if I won the lottery I could
quite happily live out of hotels for months, maybe even for a year. Just
cruising around, exploring and collecting those funny little shampoo bottles.
Of course buffet breakfasts with unlimited bread, pancakes, butter, cheese, ham
etc. would clearly be a problem. Well, despite
the carbohydrate temptations on offer, we managed to get out of our hotel
breakfast room relatively quickly and went straight down to the beach. This
area of the Spanish Algarve is where huge, mineral laden rivers meet the Atlantic in broad estuaries, bordered by white, sandy beaches. 
Grassy dunes and aging pines define the coast
in both directions. I was impressed by the infrastructure; with coastal
boardwalks, and cycle lanes throughout the coastal park area, so one could spot
flamingoes or turtles with minimal impact.
Yet is it sadly just a relatively small stretch of
maybe 30km before one hits the awesome, industrialised estuary of Huelva capital. Now this is far from minimal impact – we’re
talking about something like Teesside or Grangemouth in the UK. Mining has always been a great source of wealth on
the Costa de la Luz and here in Huelva it combines with ship building, petrol chemical units,
nuclear power & reprocessing plants and more. Each belching out smoke & pollution into
the air or leaching contaminants into the beleaguered Rio Tinto. 
It’s remarkable how extraordinarily beautiful
and pristine the Doñana National Park to the east of Huelva capital and the beaches
to the west still remain; especially when one considers the enormous pressure
of this industrial area and the intensive agriculture inland has on the
province. For obvious reasons few foreigners make the trip into the industrial city,
but I wanted to visit the Monasterio de Rábida – integral in the history of the
discovery of the America. Sweeping, elevated
motorway lanes whisk you across the flat, wetlands into the city, famous for its
role in Christopher Columbus` voyage. Even if CC may have been Italian or Portuguese,
or whatever, and even if he wasn’t truly the first to sail across the Atlantic and discover America, it doesn’t really matter here. The Spanish have
well-and-truly got the monopoly on his fame and are realising the value this
has in re-positioning Huelva as a tourist destination. 
To be honest the only thing
I recall about CC is the date 1492, and I wasn’t in the mood to brush up on my
“O” history, but I did find out that this Huelva Monastery is where the Spanish
Catholic Kings, in their eagerness to further their political influence, funded
Christopher Columbus´ voyage to the Americas (after the Portuguese failed to
come up with the cash).
This 15th Century Spanish National Monument was
built on a peninsula, now framed by industrial units and mining rail tracks. From
the window of the ancient salon where the historic, world-changing voyage was
planned, one can clearly see the changed view from 500 years ago, as one
catches sight of the industrial smokes stacks of Huelva in the distance, across the water.
I have to say, I not a great one for museum tours or
attentive reading of plaques beside glass cases – more of a general overview
type of person. So I spent most of my time in the Monastery enjoying the
aesthetics of the sun-dappled courtyards, taking photos.
The day was drawing to a close, and we hit the road again
for the 3 hour drive home. No more comfy
hotels beds or all-you-can-eat breakfast buffets for a while – diet, exercise
and routine chores beckoned.
