Lake swimming at Alange gives us a healthy appetite!

From Almendralejo we set off across the countryside, trying to avoid the major roads, realising that our 2009 Michelin map of Spain and Portugal is just not good enough and that the Spanish road system is undergoing such rapid changes that our TomTom, even with its newly updated maps can’t keep up. Every little village seems to have sprouted a by-pass, but the budget must have been exhausted before they got around to the sign posts!

More olives, more vines, but we are off in search of water. A lake at Alange, where the Romans built baths, sounds just the spot. Water means mud and everyone knows pigs love mud. “Water ahead!” shouts Phil as we round a bend to see a “yoof” diving off a viaduct some 150 feet to the water below – but look just a stream! He must be dead… Aha! Coils of elastic rope reveal the madness of bungie jumpers – flying yoof but no flying pigs! But the sun is shining and the road empty and the sleepy rolling plains of olives and vines, that stretch as far as the eye can see, welcome us anyway.

Around noon we reach Alange, a small town with a disproportionate number of hotels because of its swimming lake. There is a shop that sells everything, from lidded olive pots which we have been looking for, to tins of fish, and a pharmacy that sells anti-histamine cream.

The lakeside road and hotels are now, however, less lakeside than lake view, the water level having receded at least a couple of hundred metres below. A forlorn jetty lies marooned on the sand, its floating days over. But take heart – there is water still, and the drop in level has left hundreds of yards of sandy “beach” over which we drive our car down to the water’s edge.




At this stupid time of day there is one other family on the beach (they must be the mad dogs.) The sun is over the yard arm and it’s time for a Manzanilla for courage. The swimming is lovely. The water is clean as a whistle and warm, very little weed, a few fish and so clear. The best kind of swimming there is, we conclude. Even hours later we will still be able to feel the effect of the soft water on our skin. But right now, that fateful combination of shopping and exercise has given us an appetite!

We had spotted an interesting looking bar-restaurant as we drove into the town earlier and decide to investigate its lunch possibilities. It’s coming up to 3.00 and Shareen is developing a mild anxiety neurosis about sleepy towns closing up early, after our experience in Zafra the day before. However behind the immaculate paintwork of the Meson Restaurante Trinidad all proves well, when, not only are we served two beers with a tapa of delicious shreds of pork and onions, but we also spot that the comedor with its menu del dia is open from 13.30 –16.30 daily! A traditional Menu Extrameño is recited by the bar man, from which we choose Huevos Rellenos and Ensaladilla Russa, followed by Chuletas de Cordero and Chuleton de Cerdo, both of which come with chips, naturally, but nice ones which soak up the meat juices from the excellent, if huge and well salted, lamb and pork chops. We were determined to refuse el postre but the temptation to sample the arroz con leche and flan, (both casero -home made - and they really were) proved too great. The menu, by the way, very sensibly included a bottle of local wine (a DO Guadiana joven, very passable) and went for a total of €12 each. You could do a lot worse than spend a week in Alange, but sadly we must move on, as the Roman ruins of Mérida are calling us.