Hotel Real Santander. Tuesday December 8th 2016.
Mrs. Sánchez and I were sitting in the Theros Bar last night enumerating the human qualities of Donald Trump. After a long silence the conversation turned to the shortcomings of Democracy in the modern world and the apparent inability of turkeys and most human beings to make rational judgements regarding their own best interests. The hour was late and we were rounding off a tiring day with a couple of 'nightcaps' (a glass of red for me and a large Bailey's with ice for the good lady.) I rattled on as usual about ideologies, politics and the lack of leaders with integrity and I must have said, 'that's why so many people turn to religions'. At this point Mrs.S.,who I thought had nodded off ten minutes ago at least, seemed to perk up a bit and pitched in with gusto. I'd already lost interest and wanted to go to bed. And then the light of my life fixed me firmly with her good eye and said (I swear)... 'But what I don't understand is why anyone would turn to pigeons'. How we laughed!
We are in Santander to catch the good ship Pont Aven back to Plymouth.Our latest stay in Álora has left us exhausted so we were looking forward to a couple of days here to relax, do a bit of shopping, have a couple of nice meals and give the town the onceover. It turns out that Santander is El Rey Alfonso XIII's (Alphonso the Thirteenth's) Town. (There are 11 types of people in the world. Those who understand Roman numerals, and those who don't.)
Alfonso was the King of Spain from 1886 to 1931 and he was a big hit in Santander because he had loads of money and spent all his summer holidays here (holidays from what? you may be thinking); holidays from losing what was left of the Spanish colonies, interfering with the army, buying gold typewriters and ,most of all, impregnating women. To be fair, he probably did a lot of the last one while he was on holiday in Santander.(who doesn't?) He had 7 official children and 6 'known' illegitimate ones. Bit of a lad, then.
Alfonso XIII (a bit of a lad).
Anyway, the point is that we are staying in the Hotel Real (Royal Hotel) which Alfonso built in 1916 to accommodate all his pals and, one imagines, lady friends, while he was veraneando (summering) here away from the fierce temperatures and irate husbands of Madrid. This hotel is dead posh (***** honest!) but it caught my eye on Booking.com because they allow dogs here,which is unusual for posh hotels. What a treat for Tommy!
All seemed to be going well. Lovely room, nice bathroom, bathrobes(!!!) and slippers, great view etc, until they gave me a note at reception telling us to ask the chef about food for the dog if we haven't got any, asking us to keep Tommy on a lead and that dogs are charged 22€ a night. Then came the shocker. If the dog weighs more than 10kg. we will be charged 100€. Tommy currently weighs in at 26kg. (yes, he could do with losing a few pounds, I know). This could be an expensive couple of days.
Princess Victoria Eugenie Ena, Queen Consort of Spain, painted by Joachín Sorolla
Alfonso XIII married Princess Victoria Eugenie Ena of Battenburg (grandaughter of Queen Victoria) in 1906. It was a union of two European royal families, one named after a cake and the other after a biscuit (Alfonso was a Bourbon) which made the resultant progeny half cake, half biscuit, a bit like a jaffa cake.
The northern Spanish are not known for their use of irony but there must have been a smile on someone's face when the city built a palace for King Alfonso to thank him for all the business he brought in and named it The Magdalena.
The Magdalena Palace.
All the crowned heads of Europe and their retinues flocked to Santander to gamble away fortunes in the new casino and bet on horses at the new hipódromo (racecourse). What fun they must have all had at the grand opening of El Hotel Real (The Royal Hotel) in 1917. How easy it must have been to forget about their young subjects dying in their hundreds of thousands in the trenches of France and Belgium.
Alfonso kept Spain out of The Great War because he had family on both sides. It didn't stop Britain, Germany and Russia. Alf kept himself busy buying gold typewriters, impregnating young women and building luxury hotels like El Gran Hotel Sardinero, just across the road from The Casino in Plaza Italia. Mrs. Sánchez and I had a drink in there last night and I swear the head barman is none other than Generalisimo Francisco Franco, former dictator of Spain.
Uncanny.
Plaza Italia was named thus as a homage to the Italian army that fought on Franco's side during the La Guerra Civil (The Civil War).
King Alfonso ended up in exile in Rome. His wife, Ena (as her pals Prince Edward and Mrs. Simpson referred to her) got fed up with pregnant women ringing her doorbell and cleared off back to England where she had a grand old time until she was 'asked to leave' by the government. She is the great-grandmother of the present king of Spain, Filipe IV.
Mrs. Sánchez and I felt we deserved a bit of TLC after working flat out on the family olive estate, Olivar Caicunes. We picked over 2 tons of olives in 17 days with the help of slave labour from Liverpool. (Hows that for irony?). Two nights in El Hotel Real is just the ticket. Tommy is on a crash diet but still wan't pass for 10kg.
I'll let you know how Tommy gets on with his diet.
Juanito Sánchez 8th. December 2015.
