No idea what Zaragossa is like. Stayed one night and fled.
It goes like this. Before setting off we checked for camp sites. Only one in Zaragossa in our ACSI guide and that is the City Municipal. Last time we used one of those was Chartres and we had a £1500 robbery on the car and TWO punctures (Chartres was lovely but hey!?). So we expanded the search. Not only could we not find any other camp sites in Zaragossa there seemed to be none in the whole of Aragon. So we went to said City Municipal.
It was it must be admitted an achingly hot day. We got our first 32C of the trip. Arrival was interesting – up a steep twisting ramp off the main drag and a very narrow single carriageway run in. Round a roundabout and along a k to another so we could turn round to be on the camp site side of the road. All very new and all very expensive. Up another steep ramp and round an amazingly tight right hand bend, flanked by concrete walls on all sides to reach the usual stop point outside the reception. No room for any more behind us.
Reception is effective, formal and bureaucratic (they all are in Spain but this one a shade more so). No problemo with the long van, loads of space she said. In a sense this was true but only because of the almost total lack of trees. The suggested site was useless but we had been asked to select our own anyway if necessary. We found a long and easy on-easy off corner plot with the same amount of shade as all the other 100 plus – that is NONE. Anyway we pitched, sweating heavily.
The plots are numbered with illuminated signs on the corners. 85 said I. Can't be said Janet, that's the one next door. We were on the only site with TWO numbers. All the others had their numbers to the right of the plot. Ours had two. 85A as it were housed a large motor home. Then came the minute trees (shade one decade?) in the centre with the power and water set up to the rear. Then on 85b was us. Loads a room for us both! Needless to say in that early afternoon roaster we did not move and the guy in the big motorhome seemed oblivious that he had, technically, squatters.
But the site was pretty dreadful. Very new and expensively fitted out. But the camping area and bungalows (oh yes) were but a small part of what I am only guessing but looked very much like a former council tip. It was affectively a small hill with trees (and shade! at the top. And a very nice and expensive kidney-shaped pool. With huge and well equipped lawned (wow!) lido alongside. And a big bar. And a big restaurant. And a huge banqueting hall as well as tennis and Fronton courts. So we were being asked to pitch our valuable kit on a site used by the public!
And for this we were asked to pay TWICE as much as any site we have used in France, Spain or Italy - 32 Euros a night they wanted. No shade and heatwave. Surfaces of small grit which will ruin carpets and scour hard floors. Nice shower block but shower cubicles TOO small; nowhere to hang towel etc out of range of the spray. In fact they appeared designed by the chap who did school swimming pools so that youngsters were forced to run about naked on the way too and from showers. Locker rooms? Save me! And finally an apparently splendid washing up area with hot water (no plugs but that's usual) BUT every single one of 20 mixer taps was totally loose, spun on its base and had to be held with both hands to adjust! One man and spanner and a spare hour and it could be fixed.
So we spent one night. And at the exit found that we had to make a similar right turn, hemmed in by concrete walls. Straight to the roundabout and first exit had the girl said. Yeah but not everyone wants to go to Madrid and I distinctly said Burgos via Logrono!
No sight of Zaragossa. Maybe they will invite us back when they read our reviews and comments in due course. Or not.
And just as a by the way, having been lost by dodgy info and finding major roadworks going on I managed to effectively if temporarily weld the side of the van to large white panel truck. Incredibly the van driver managed to instruct me well enough to un-weld by backing up very very slowly. Janet risked her life controlling the mostly tolerant traffic. Even more incredibly damage was minute to the van and pretty minimal to the car. I shook hands with the truck driver and we parted friends. His fault? Maybe as I think he tried to sneak up the inside. My fault? Must be in part as I was changing lanes. Roadworks to blame? For sure as neither he nor I would have been in that position without them. 30-30-30 and 10 for bad luck?