A Coruña, Spain – Day 1
Aggghhh…. sunshine, waves, water. Thankful.
The Journey to Galicia
What a day. One of those all-day, many-modes-of-transportation, weather-filled adventures that make you collapse into bed at the end of it, exhausted but exhilarated.
It all started in Timmendorfer Strand at 11:30 AM, with rain, mist, and fog coating the drive to Hamburg Airport. Classic North German winter—gray, damp, and a little melancholic. But honestly, it made the anticipation even stronger. The moment I walked into the terminal, it was like stepping into a different world, one that smelled of jet fuel and possibility.
Flying Vueling was a breeze. Check-in was efficient, the flight on time. I had just enough space to settle in, let the hum of the engines lull me into a travel trance, and enjoy the thrill of knowing that by the end of the day, I’d be somewhere entirely different. Not to mention this view! The sun shining over the Alps, blanketed in January snow, was spectacular.
The Barcelona Layover – And the Best Empanadas Ever?
Layovers are usually a necessary evil, but Barcelona-El Prat Airport turned out to be a highlight. I found an empanada stand, and let me just say—these were life-changing empanadas. Flaky, perfectly golden pastry, stuffed with warm, flavorful fillings. Maybe it was the hunger talking, or maybe it was Spain reminding me why I keep coming back, but they were incredible.
And it got me thinking—why can’t German airports showcase their food the way Spain does? Imagine a layover in Munich where you grab a steaming plate of Rouladen or a bowl of Geschnetzeltes instead of suffering through another sad, knockoff Thai curry. Germany has amazing food, but instead, we get a globalized fast-food lineup of Burger King, bad pizza, and sushi that should have never left the fridge. Spanish airports, on the other hand? They make sure you know you're in Spain from the moment you step off the plane.
A Coruña – The Wildest Landing of My Life
By the time we approached A Coruña, the red-alert storms that had been hammering the region for a week were finally moving on. Or at least, mostly moving on.
That landing? Insane. Brilliant, but wild.
Picture a paper airplane caught in shifting gusts, rocking side to side, dipping and tilting. Now imagine you're inside it, watching sheets of rain blur the runway lights as the plane fights to stabilize. The pilot, bless them, executed the softest landing in the midst of absolute chaos. The second we touched the ground, the cabin erupted into cheers and applause—and for once, it wasn’t just the Germans clapping. (That’s a whole other cultural quirk I need to write about someday.)
I glanced out the window and could still see the storm we had just flown through. It was wild. But we were here. A Coruña, finally.
A Cozy Night at Hotel Alda
Given that it was nearly midnight, and still raining and windy, the idea of dragging my gear straight to an unfamiliar boat? Absolutely not. Instead, I checked into Hotel Alda, about a 20-minute walk from the marina. Best decision of the day.
Hotel Alda is no frills but perfect—clean, modern, and exactly what I needed. The shower was hot with great water pressure (which, if you know boat showers, you know how much I appreciated this). The bed? Comfy. And for €50 a night, it was an absolute steal.
I crashed hard, barely making it through checking messages before I was out like a light.
Tomorrow: Onto SV Tavaha
Checkout is at noon. I plan to sleep in, find a proper cappuccino, and then head to the marina to finally meet Storm and Mirabelle aboard SV Tavaha.
