Salou. It has been a place I have wanted to visit for many, many years. I enjoy Spain, I find that I like the Costas which I have visited but the reason for this urge to visit Salou is because of a long-standing and rather unfortunate episode in my life some forty-one years ago.
My first ever job was in no less a place than The Strand in central London. I had been taken on by a company called Phoenix Travel and the office was very close to the Law Courts and Fleet Street. It was quite something, but also a mistake. The salary was less than the rail fare from Swindon and I had still not passed my driving test meaning that my parents kindly took me to and from the Swindon Railway Station at inconvenient hours of the day. On the first day, I remember rushing to Paddington and catching the slowest train back to Swindon in error. In the end, I had to forego half-an-hour of my lunch break daily so that I could leave half-an-hour early so that I could arrive back home at a more convenient hour. There were other minor issues but it was hardly the way to forge a glittering career.

Anyway, where does Salou come into this? Well, within the first hour and a half of my arrival I found myself on the front line and, for a while, all alone whereupon I saw two workmen outside looking at the holiday offers board and prayed that they wouldn't come in. Unfortunately, they did and my brief exchange with them probably led anyone with decent hearing in the office to wonder what on earth the powers-that-be had taken on.
"Where's Salou, mate?" one of the workmen asked.
Say it quickly and how does it sound? All manner of thoughts went through my mind: should these two, presumably unassociated with the company, be asking to use our toilets? In the end, with no-one else to ask, I felt that I had to accede to their wishes.
"Downstairs, on the left-hand side," I eventually answered, with little conviction.
"Not the loo, mate. Salou!"
Yes, a terrific start. Well, now safely retired from the travel industry (which I stayed in for thirty-six years, I hasten to add), I felt able to see what this Salou place was like. And I can, tongue in cheek, place the blame of this unfortunate event firmly on the workman who asked where the place was because of his incorrect pronunciation (something I can say with confidence having heard the locals pronounce it like Sa-lou rather than Se-loo). Would I have sent them downstairs in that case? I fear that I would.
That was 1985 and, now in 2026, I booked myself into the Seaborn Salou for a four-night stay at the end of the summer season. To be honest, I was more curious to see the place and considered it a decent place to explore from. It was indeed that, and better. The Seaborn was in an area close to the centre, but quiet and the room and staff were excellent. I had a balcony too.
I had also managed to fly from the nearby Bristol to Reus. Thinking about it now, I had the pronunciation of that wrong: thinking it was more Royce, I had to quickly back-peddle when I heard Ray-us. The flight was on time but I just missed a comparatively infrequent coach to Salou by a minute or two which meant an hour-and-a-half's wait for the next but hey ho. Google Maps had served me well and, unbelievably, I found myself walking directly from one of the Salou bus stops directly, and without getting lost, to the Seaborn. Likely, a first.
Although that evening was damp and the next day the rain was so heavy that the streets flooded, Salou was, I found, delightful. A nice beach, lots of palm trees, a delightful path along the beach and plenty of - reasonably-priced - souvenir shops and restaurants galore. On the better days, the sunsets were stunning.

I had booked a place on a coach tour to the Montserrat Monastery and Sitges which meant exchanging my voucher for a ticket at a local Bus Plana office which was conveniently just two minutes walk from the Seaborn. The chap was very helpful and I was also able to buy a T-10 bus pass for travel around the area for just 10.95 euros.
I used this pass to go to Tarragona, a larger place probably around eight or ten miles from Salou and took a less convenient bus there simply because I had to take the same bus service the following morning to Vila-seca to reach Barcelona by train and wanted to see where I should disembark. Frankly, that was helpful but the day was ghastly due to the weather but I somehow avoided being even more drenched than I had expected. Avoiding cars was the order of the day.

I found a decent place to eat called Laurel Hardy's and went there on three of the four nights and ate well.
I was up early the following morning for my independently-booked trip to Barcelona. It meant a twenty- minute walk to the bus stop for Vila-seca, the nearest railway station to Salou for regular trains to Barcelona. Vila-seca is not greatly convenient but I still made it comparatively easily with some guidance from three policemen. The journey along the coast to Barcelona Sants took around one hour and fifteen minutes and was delightful, pretty much on time and there are regular departures. The weather was much better too: this was a relief as the previous day, I had noticed how late the trains were and was hoping that the weather would improve as I had a time booked for a visit around the renowned Sagrada Familia.
Sants is the main station in Barcelona, and thereby busy. Buying a one-day Hola Barcelona travel card (13.50 euros) meant quite a wait in a queue but I made it to the remarkable cathedral just in time for my visit. Places are limited and need to be booked in advance and I believe that the only way of guaranteeing entrance is through pre-booking. I had done so at the earliest opportunity and managed to include a walk around the Nativity towers - the Passion towers are also available but one must choose one or the other at the time of booking. The Sagrada Familia is a remarkable place and the number of spires is increasing but still work continues. The lights and colours inside are staggering and it was wonderful to be back after seven or eight years. I enjoyed the walk around the Nativity towers but suspect - please laugh, if you wish - that I might have become lost... Let's just say that there seemed to be a choice of two ways to follow and I may not have seen as much as I might have but did find my way downstairs. Security is understandably tight and there were loads of visitors, unsurprisingly.
The next part of my visit in Barcelona - a city I love - was something a little bit different. I enjoy Formula 1 and its history and so decided to walk around part of the Montjuic Grand Prix street circuit which hosted four grands prix from 1969 to 1975. I did not have quite enough time to walk around the whole circuit as it is today but started from roughly where the start/finish line was and down the undulating roads, past the magnificent Montjuic Palace and its Magic Fountain - a place which, at night when lit up, is magnificent but which I was not around for on this occasion - and admire the twists and turns. It must have been quite a place to race around and watch but, tragically, its last grand prix saw an accident with fatalities. It was also the first and, to date, only Formula 1 race in which a female competitor, Lella Lombardi, scored.

I enjoyed a walk afterwards down La Rambla, a delightful tree-lined avenue leading down to the sea and one of Barcelona's main attractions. Many years ago, I stayed in a place called the Fornos which was simple yet highly convenient and, when a colleague went to Barcelona afterwards and asked for a place to stay, I told him about the Fornos and he too booked in there. Unfortunately, it seems that it was not quite up to his wife's expectations and she had four sleepless nights and I was, well, not quite the flavour of the month...Anyway, my motto is always "When in Barcelona, go and visit the Fornos" but, sadly, it seems to be under another name now or has closed down.
My last visit of the day was to another Gaudi edifice, Palau Guell which is just off La Rambla. It is of a different design and nature to many other Gaudi buildings and I found it interesting although the roof with its twenty chimneys was more what people may expect of Gaudian architecture.
I travelled back from the smaller Passeig de Gracia station to Salou and, instead of alighting at Vila-seca, went through Tarragona which had better bus options one of which dropped me much closer to the hotel and restaurant.
My last full day was spent on the Bus Plana tour to Montserrat and Sitges. At 44.95 euros, it was excellent value including coach transportation, funicular to Montserrat and a tour of the basilica. We had an excellent guide, also called Montserrat as the monastery name is a popular choice for girls, who was fluent in at least five languages which made me rather envious. The coach was a good way to go as the journey times opposed to using public transport are much quicker. It left at a civil time (8:30 a.m.) and returned just before 7 p.m. The journey, predominantly along the coast, was delightful and, on arrival at the Montserrat Mountain, we continued up by the cog railway to the monastery. Individual travellers also have the option of going by cable-car at the same price as I understand but I am guessing that tour groups will predominantly go by railway - which takes just twelve minutes - as greater numbers can be taken by railway at any one time.
Once up, the views are extraordinary and the sight of the monastery nestled amongst the craggy rocks of the mountains quite remarkable. I once visited Meteora in Greece where a number of smaller monasteries were perched atop a number of separate peaks. In a way, it reminded me slightly of that but the size of Montserrat is on a far larger scale. Both, in their different ways, are remarkable. We had plenty of time to explore the area with a booked time of 1 p.m. to walk around the basilica and touch the hand of The Black Madonna, the Virgin Mary and patron saint of Catalonia, and make a wish. Candles could be lit afterwards, and plenty were and had been. The basilica is dark and impressive and something else on a grand scale.
The included ticket also included a liqueur tasting of four drinks made by the monks. As chance would have it, I met our Montserrat on her, presumably, fourth drink and she encouraged me to use my voucher for my four which I was very happy to do so. The weather was again wonderful yet the sight of Montserrat walking around elegantly under an umbrella so that, as she said, our "Plana, Plana" group did not lose her was memorable with others later on at the beach in Sitges more suitably attired for the beach. Mind you, don't we know how helpful an umbrella can be to guard against the sun?
The journey to Sitges from Montserrat took just under an hour and we had just over an hour taking in the delights of the town. I was hoping that there might have been just a half-hour longer there as I had wanted to try to visit another grand prix track, the Terramar Autodrom, which was used around 100 years agio and which lies a five-minute bus ride and a short walk thereafter to the track. Its fearsome curves similar to Monza's famed and now disused parabolicas would have made it quite a sight but, even had there been time, I may not have been able to see much, if anything, as it sits on private land and may not have been open or visible. It is, though, still on my bucket list as it can be reached in an hour by regular bus from Barcelona.
A further coastal ride back to Salou completed a marvellous day and stay there. With the improved weather after the first day, the beach scenes at dusk were terrific. I was up early the following day for another Bus Plana transfer to Barcelona Airport from where I would fly back to Bristol. I travelled from the same bus stop close to the Seaborn and was becoming a tiny bit twitchy when the bus was a few minutes late in arriving as the next one would likely have reached the airport a bit too close for comfort. It made plentiful stops to collect people but arrived at Barcelona Airport really very empty. I was pleased for the stop in Tarragona as it went past the Roman amphitheatre which the poor weather had stopped me from seeing three days previously.
For all of my jokes about the brief and embarrassing conversation with the workmen in The Strand all those years, I can safely say that I wish that I hadn't waited so long to see what Salou was like. And to find out where it is.