Solo in Cádiz

11/04/2022

I would say that two days is enough time in Cádiz. Maybe that's because I came here alone. Spending an afternoon having a typically Spanish languishing lunch is hard to do when you're by yourself. The past couple of days I have observed other tables, mostly families, whose comida rituals I take note of. It has made me grateful that I have no charges; feeding a child looks stressful. They are fussy, lose interest in the food quickly, and need some form of entertainment when this happens (usually a ball or electronic device). I've heard people complain before that solo diners aren't treated as well, but I haven't found this to be true. I actually think staff are more grateful for a more low maintenance order sometimes. I certainly was in my hospitality jobs. 

The cuisine of Cádiz is fish-based. Pescaito frito (an assortment of fried fish) is the most typical. Today I tried battered hake with black mayo (still confused about why it was black) from the market which was good. Maybe as a Brit though I don't value battered fish that highly. I dipped the hake in a small pot of salmorejo, an Andalusian cold soup made from breadcrumbs, tomato, garlic, and olive oil.  Another interesting tapa was albóndigas de choco (literally 'cuttlefish meatballs') served over a surprise portion of french fries. My favourite dish has been garbanzos y langostinos (a stew of chickpeas and langoustines flavoured with pimentón and garlic).

Battered hake, salmorejo, and a tiny beer

Cádiz is a good city for wandering. It is that way that you find these little bars and cafes, stumble across big plazas with imposing trees and pretty balconies. It is not a million miles away from Cartagena in its ambience. Like my Murcian neighbour city, it is a place for eating good tapas and is also home to a similar Roman theatre. It has a long history dating back beyond the Romans and hosts daily visits from cruise sheps sailing the Med. The more I think about it, the more similarities I find.

The past few days here have also been a series of me trying to dodge constant Easter processions. The first warning sign is the appearance of tiny wooden chairs on the streets, where local pensioners park themselves, followed by gowned people in cone-shaped hats, and evenutally a suited marching band. Finally, the procession will actually begin and a float carrying a religious figure crawls its way past the chairs. This whole process can take an hour, or longer. And if you have a specific destination that can be really frustrating. I now understand why Sergio was so indignant on barging through the parade in Seville. If you're pressed for time, Semana Santa processions are extremely inconvenient. That said, there is something special about witnessing such a living tradition. The only UK equivalents which gather this many people (in my experience at least) were last year's Euro's or a royal wedding, as embarassing as that is to admit. We (the English) are not the type to continue religious rituals for the sake of tradition.