Now I know how those Taliban guys felt when the CIA tortured them by depriving them of sleep and playing Ted Nugent at pain threshold decibels.
I collapsed into bed at midnight only to be awakened at 02:00 am by the repetitive beats from the foam party at the next village, which is two kilometres away.
Such is life during Fiesta Season in Spain.
Today’s stage starts in Benidorm, not beside the sea but on the north side of town, away from the football strip clad, burnt red, stag and hen madness and the karaoke bars.
There was the usual traffic chaos en route the start but we managed 20 minutes snapping before we had to bolt back to the car.