...We met Laurence and Tony yesterday afternoon for drinks in the Marina. We thought Jonathan, Joanne, Donna and Joseph may join us but i forgot Jonathan was working later. After a few drink Laurence said, come up to our place we will have a drink and then walk down to the Chinese restaurant. So we did. We have never seen their villa but heard so much about it.
Its in a town calle la Nucia, which is just outside of benidorm. when we arrived we could see it was a lovely home, very Spanish and very private. As we walked in there was an entrance hall, with a general bathroom to the right, the hall opened into a very big lounge which has 3 settees and the centre piece is a grand piano, which Laurence plays like a professional. They gave us a tour, we went into the garden where their pool has a patio surrounding it with sunbeds. And yes we saw the shed...and as of now it is no longer going to be called the shed because it is a wonderful extension to their patio. It is built of concrete with tiles adorning the walls and floor, there is a built in barbecue, once finished it will be a remarkable addition to the villa especially in winter.
We had out drinks whilst Laurence tickled the ivories, then we went down to la Nucia, to the Chinese which was exceptionally good. All in all we had a brilliant night out thanks to our hosts Laurence and Tony. We now owe them a return date which will be when they return from the UK, and we will have them round to ours for a meal.
I was sat in the marina bar earlier, and this little known phenomenon appeared, its apparently called a rain cloud. It meant I had to cover my drink with my palm so it wasn't watered down, so unusual in August, but our temperatures have been in the 40s C which is very hot hopefully the rain with de-humidify.
Jack who frequents the Marina bar will be half-way through is sojourn back in England, and by now he will be texting John about how he wishes he was back in Spain, but when he gets here he moans about it being hot. But the middle to the end of September is when the long-term stayers arrive. They tend to get a 6 months lease on an apartment from September to march. The full time ex-pats are quite happy they come and go because when they come back they receive gossip and they can give gossip.
In September Roy (the grim reaper) and his wife Jennifer will be back for a month. So I will start to alert the emergency services at the end of August that he is here and they can double the number of Ambulances on stand-by. I have sent him a few emails telling him the news from the bay so he won't have a lot of catching up to do. The first thing he will want to know is if Amancio's building is being demolished yet, and I can tell him the plan is for it to come down after the summer season. This building has been illegal for 25 years and only part built a good gust of wind would blow it over anyway.
Then we will have 'Eric' Pollard. I still don't know his real name everyone calls him Eric, but anyway he plays the keyboard in the marina in the autumn and winter. Its a bit like community singing for the elderly. You can imagine them all sat in the London underground in World War 2 singing these songs to keep their spirits up. As the sangria flows and the time for their Horlicks approaches they tend to launch into dancing the jitterbug, or Charleston or some such thing. If this was the New town you would be inclined to call them lager louts but as the average age is 75, then perhaps they are the Geriatric drunkards. This is when the Marina bar splits into two communities the more mature inside singing dancing and drinking, and the less mature (although a moot point) outside sat under the calor gas heaters but at least being able to chat.
The place also begins to feel less Spanish and more cosmopolitan, there are many permanent ex-pats here than native Spaniards during the winter, the trend reverses in summer due to the Spanish holiday makers. But as my mate says I am glad its no longer the holiday season after all this is our country......
The Marina Bar
La Cala de Finestrat beach. On the right of this page there are site links of people who have been in my blogs. Feel free to go have a look.
Friday, 8 August 2008
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Rubbish, rubbish removal and rubbish pastimes
...Every night we get our dustbins emptied. Every morning the roads are swept and watered down to remove the dust and sand. We have recycling of bottles and glass, cardboard and paper goods, aluminium cans and plastic containers, they too are emptied every night. The removal of rubbish is known here as the basura. Every year each household has to pay for this and it is roughly between 70 to 180 euros a year. If a bin lid is open to any extent no problem, if the rubbish at the recycling bins cascades onto the floor no problem. So what the hell is happening in England with rubbish disposal and on my apartment there I pay £800 a year.
Anyway, the dust cart comes round from about 0200 every morning, I know because I hear every single stop, because the breaks squeal. On the basura truck there is an Englishman and he runs ahead of the truck getting the obscure dustbins in advance of the truck. At the side of the Marina bar there is a ramp to the car park and it is also where they keep the bin. This ramp is not ordinary it is about 50 yards long and raises so steeply that cars have to take a run at it. The English basura man climbs the ramp every night, we have witnessed this from the Marina bar. He bounds up like a spring lamb, but the coming back is more like a le Mans 24 hour car race, as it drags him down the hill there are sparks coming from his shoes as he tries to slow down, and he makes it just about 5 minutes ahead of the dustcart...
In the morning we wake to the noise of motorised street cleaners which rinse and scrub the road, there are men in overalls hosing all the cement and tarmac surface and men and women with dustbin on wheels brush the street by hand. On the beach there are tractors combing the sand back flat ready for the throng of sun worshippers who will later cover every grain of sand.
But in amongst this are the scavengers, no not seagulls, but people with metal detectors. One even wears a wet suit and wades into the sea up to his waist. I am no Marine scientist, but the med is not very tidal especially so far from Gibraltar, so unless someone has been daft enough to go swimming with coins in their pocket of with jewelry on, I should think he will have slim pickings.
One day I saw one chap with his metal detector marching along the sand and they wave it from side to side like a manic mine sweeper. He was doing well until he got close to a couple lying on towels, the male of the two jumped up when he saw him and was shouting at the metal detector man, who in turn was shouting back, suddenly the sunbather started to run at metal detector man, who spun round and legged it as fast as his equipment would let him, and the lady sun bather started after the man, he was very much like a Bennie Hill sequence. The metal detector man was lucky that the sun bather got fed up because he was making ground on him, needless to say his mine sweeping for the day was over, and those poor people who lost money, bracelets, watches and other such items had some solace in knowing at least he wouldn't get something for nothing today, come to think of it, I bet the two sunbathers have lost something to take that aggressive approach.
The other 'odd' behaviour is exercise. And there are three distinct ones here, speed walking, running and physical exercise in groups.
The speed walker has these ridiculous speed walking sticks which if you are watching from afar you think you are watching a four legged stick insect with long front legs, if you really want to know ridiculous then its the 70+ year old with them just about walking at 2 miles an hour. Just as a note, my wife and I were once on a ship in the Panama canal and we were going down the locks, 99% of the people on board were in awe of this magnificent feat of engineering, but we kept hearing a clip clop clip clop noise and when we could be bothered to look it was a speed walker with sticks walking time and again around the deck not even noticing we were in one of the modern wonders of the world, for that she paid at least £2,000, I think that's why I find the exercise quite moronic.
Running is an admirable way of exercising, but we live in temperatures of 35 to 45 on average in Summer. There are perfectly good Gymnasia's in Spain and air conditioned with walking machines. It is always going to be hot just walking, the authorities tell anyone over 60 to stay in doors or in the shade and wear white not black otherwise they could get heat exhaustion, and the runners still continue. You know where they have been they are like snails, they leave a trail only of water.
The most ridiculous are the group exercisers, someone comes along with a ghetto blaster sets it up on the beach and the fit size zero, (you know the ones Shell and Julie if you are reading this, they are the ones who look good coming out of the sea) stands at the front giving it what for and shouting in Spanish "uno, dos, tres, quatro........uno mass.....uno, dos,...." In front of them stand a varying age group of Spaniards, British people, some Germans perhaps, most of them out of time, out of shape and have just put their cigarettes out, some flapping arms like demented penguins most of them lobster colour and perspiring and all of them clearly out on day release from some type of care home.
Sitting in the shade with a cool Mahou in my hand watching all these displays of madness makes me sweat and think I'll settle for the 5 fruit and veges a day and run the risk of an obesity driven demise. The really funny thing is at the end of the group exercise they break into applause for the size zero stick insect who didn't need any exercise in the first place...
Anyway, the dust cart comes round from about 0200 every morning, I know because I hear every single stop, because the breaks squeal. On the basura truck there is an Englishman and he runs ahead of the truck getting the obscure dustbins in advance of the truck. At the side of the Marina bar there is a ramp to the car park and it is also where they keep the bin. This ramp is not ordinary it is about 50 yards long and raises so steeply that cars have to take a run at it. The English basura man climbs the ramp every night, we have witnessed this from the Marina bar. He bounds up like a spring lamb, but the coming back is more like a le Mans 24 hour car race, as it drags him down the hill there are sparks coming from his shoes as he tries to slow down, and he makes it just about 5 minutes ahead of the dustcart...
In the morning we wake to the noise of motorised street cleaners which rinse and scrub the road, there are men in overalls hosing all the cement and tarmac surface and men and women with dustbin on wheels brush the street by hand. On the beach there are tractors combing the sand back flat ready for the throng of sun worshippers who will later cover every grain of sand.
But in amongst this are the scavengers, no not seagulls, but people with metal detectors. One even wears a wet suit and wades into the sea up to his waist. I am no Marine scientist, but the med is not very tidal especially so far from Gibraltar, so unless someone has been daft enough to go swimming with coins in their pocket of with jewelry on, I should think he will have slim pickings.
One day I saw one chap with his metal detector marching along the sand and they wave it from side to side like a manic mine sweeper. He was doing well until he got close to a couple lying on towels, the male of the two jumped up when he saw him and was shouting at the metal detector man, who in turn was shouting back, suddenly the sunbather started to run at metal detector man, who spun round and legged it as fast as his equipment would let him, and the lady sun bather started after the man, he was very much like a Bennie Hill sequence. The metal detector man was lucky that the sun bather got fed up because he was making ground on him, needless to say his mine sweeping for the day was over, and those poor people who lost money, bracelets, watches and other such items had some solace in knowing at least he wouldn't get something for nothing today, come to think of it, I bet the two sunbathers have lost something to take that aggressive approach.
The other 'odd' behaviour is exercise. And there are three distinct ones here, speed walking, running and physical exercise in groups.
The speed walker has these ridiculous speed walking sticks which if you are watching from afar you think you are watching a four legged stick insect with long front legs, if you really want to know ridiculous then its the 70+ year old with them just about walking at 2 miles an hour. Just as a note, my wife and I were once on a ship in the Panama canal and we were going down the locks, 99% of the people on board were in awe of this magnificent feat of engineering, but we kept hearing a clip clop clip clop noise and when we could be bothered to look it was a speed walker with sticks walking time and again around the deck not even noticing we were in one of the modern wonders of the world, for that she paid at least £2,000, I think that's why I find the exercise quite moronic.
Running is an admirable way of exercising, but we live in temperatures of 35 to 45 on average in Summer. There are perfectly good Gymnasia's in Spain and air conditioned with walking machines. It is always going to be hot just walking, the authorities tell anyone over 60 to stay in doors or in the shade and wear white not black otherwise they could get heat exhaustion, and the runners still continue. You know where they have been they are like snails, they leave a trail only of water.
The most ridiculous are the group exercisers, someone comes along with a ghetto blaster sets it up on the beach and the fit size zero, (you know the ones Shell and Julie if you are reading this, they are the ones who look good coming out of the sea) stands at the front giving it what for and shouting in Spanish "uno, dos, tres, quatro........uno mass.....uno, dos,...." In front of them stand a varying age group of Spaniards, British people, some Germans perhaps, most of them out of time, out of shape and have just put their cigarettes out, some flapping arms like demented penguins most of them lobster colour and perspiring and all of them clearly out on day release from some type of care home.
Sitting in the shade with a cool Mahou in my hand watching all these displays of madness makes me sweat and think I'll settle for the 5 fruit and veges a day and run the risk of an obesity driven demise. The really funny thing is at the end of the group exercise they break into applause for the size zero stick insect who didn't need any exercise in the first place...
Airports humidity and sleep deprevation
...Having had to take someone to the airport at 0345 on Wednesday morning, I haven't been drinking for a couple of days. Hence the comment from one of my blog groupies on the previous blog. But it was quite right, when I went into the marina and asked for a diet coke, there was a look of incredulity about Pedro. But later today we are meeting up with Laurence and Tony as they are off to the UK for a few weeks tomorrow.
Now as you know a lot of the source material for these blogs comes from that very bar and I mentioned before that now it is summer, they can place a number of seats on the other side of the road from 4 pm due to the road being closed to traffic. Later there is a street market on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. The other day I was sat drinking a mahou and two Policia local officers went by with a clip board and pen counting tables. So I asked Antonio what they were doing, he told me: "dey are counting tables for tax, I pay at end of summer". Which reminded me of a number of rules and regulations applied and enforced by them.
One day two street buskers arrived and started to play tunes, one had a guitar and the other an accordion. It is illegal to play on the street without a proper licence, and you can't get a proper licence for busking, so anyone singing at a bar and then going round with a hat etc. is breaking the law. The enforcement is usually having their instruments confiscated. So as these buskers were playing, una paloma blanca, and Spanish eyes, I could see two Policia coming towards the bar, at the last minute they did too and cut short the last tune and 'ran' round with the hat before they got their collar felt by el plod. The guitarist was off like a rocket, the accordion player went around the corner out of sight, then gently strolled back minus accordion. The Policia by this time were on the corner facing the beach clearly looking for 2 people with musical instruments. Then the accordionist came past again this time pulling a shopping trolley clearly to put the instrument in when he retrieved it, the type old ladies have in the UK on wheels with a canvass bag. He again went round the corner and came back strolling past the bar whispering in a loud voice "I be back tomorrow".... I did hope not.
Just as in England, Spain has hygiene rules and they send out council officials to ensure the rules are applied. The other day I was walking up to the shop to help my wife lift a heavy book shelf, when I met another of the shop assistants, Julie. She said: "Have you seen them"? I replied: "What". She said: "Are you going up to the shop"? "yes" I said. "I'll let it be a surprise" and off she went. When I got in Ange had her 'I am not impressed' face on. "Look at these" she said and proceeded to produce several overalls or tabbards I believe they call them, from under the counter. "We have been asked to pick the one we like". I thought well that's a good idea a bit of employee consultation get the best design and then get enough in for the staff. In fact I voiced my approval to Ange who nearly chewed my head off. "No, we have to choose one of them. Its going over your head isn't it Bob"? She then showed me one at a time."there is this lovely green number, with stains down the front and a label has been ripped off, there is this white one with a pocket and a rip sewn up, Oh, there is this one with 'Swissair' on the front. Julie has picked hers I have picked mine Sally and Rita have to yet," She was not happy. It seems the hygiene people had been in and tore a strip off nearly every procedure in the shop, one of which being the lack of tabbards for staff. So the owner always on the lookout for a bargain, managed to acquire a number of said tabbards. Anyway as I was not likely to see any mood shift in a positive direction, I made my excuses and left. last night I went in at about 6 pm and she was there wearing it....she had the white one with orange piping, the pocket and sewn up tear. Call me a coward but I thought I would not refer to it at all.
Back at the bar yesterday afternoon I managed to get a couple of beers and Jesus (pronounced eezoos) was in a strangely good humour. Normally he is Mr annoying and Mr Angry rolled into one. I said "Jesu tu es mucho tranqillo"(you are very calm) he just smiled and went to a table with four people who seemed to be German. He was chatting and off he went with an order came back with the order and gave them menus. Now the marina bar is not cordon bleu quisine, its more transport cafe than restaurant, but it has a varied selection. You can get burgers, chips, sepia a la plancha, calamaris, pork, bacon, etc and they do various baguettes with hot or cold fillings. The Germans placed their order and he returned with it. As he passed me he said "mucho tranqillo huh, not weeth bloody them" I am not too sure how they managed it, but in an instant they transformed Jesus back into his former irritable self.
It gets very hot in August and we are all suffering with the humidity, Its practically impossible to stay cool in the evening and throughout the night. Even if you have air conditioning it can be expensive to keep it on. On top of that, the other night when I was going to take my friends niece to the airport at 0345 I had to go to bed earlier than normal, so I estimated that if I went to bed at say 9 pm and got up at 2, and then went back to bed for a couple of hours at 5 in the morning I should be OK. Jonathan's sister had arrived on holiday with her son Joseph, so they were off for a Chinese and then going to heroes, they invited us but as I had this appointment I declined but said to Ange she may as well join them at heroes. Which is what she did. I went to bed. Boy is my timing perfect? Apart from the heat and the humidity, it was still light when I got in bed and i could hear all the kids in the pool, "mama", "Papa" followed by the odd scream and that gurgling sound they make when they have swallowed half the pool (why do they do that). As their noise abated, there was a rumble a kind of base noise...I had forgotten, they had set up a screen on the beach and were going to show a feature film, this is only yards from my apartment. This went on until 11.15 pm.
I thought now I get a chance to sleep, when all of a sudden, yes you guessed it someone dropped the marble on the tiled floor, and then those above decided they didn't like where the furniture was and it was too heavy to lift so they slid it all over the room. And not only the Senora of the house but I am convinced that the Senor too were wearing high heel shoes, so much was the clatter that it sounded like the horses hooves in Ben Hur the classic chariot race film. And somewhere in the block a baby had decided to throw a screaming paddy. Then my alarm went off. And Ange wasn't home yet.
So! I thought sod it I will get a shower, couldn't have anything to drink except soft drinks or tea, so I had tea and then coke hoping the caffeine would keep me alert for the 90 min round trip drive.
I logged on line to try and find a chat room with someone in I knew, but alas I was on the wrong shift. Even my nocturnal mate Julie was pushing out the z's. Then Ange arrived home proclaiming what a lovely night she had, and that she had only been on shandy too. (Not to mention the half bottle of wine she had before she went out.) At 0340 I went to pick Roslyn up and take her to the airport, and I arrived home at 5 am ish. My first job was to have a glass of bells whiskey by way of a de-stresser. Once drank I went to bed and maybe got 2 hours of sleep. So the moral of this tale is, if your friend asks you to take someone to the airport in the early hours of the morning, tell them to sod off...
Now as you know a lot of the source material for these blogs comes from that very bar and I mentioned before that now it is summer, they can place a number of seats on the other side of the road from 4 pm due to the road being closed to traffic. Later there is a street market on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. The other day I was sat drinking a mahou and two Policia local officers went by with a clip board and pen counting tables. So I asked Antonio what they were doing, he told me: "dey are counting tables for tax, I pay at end of summer". Which reminded me of a number of rules and regulations applied and enforced by them.
One day two street buskers arrived and started to play tunes, one had a guitar and the other an accordion. It is illegal to play on the street without a proper licence, and you can't get a proper licence for busking, so anyone singing at a bar and then going round with a hat etc. is breaking the law. The enforcement is usually having their instruments confiscated. So as these buskers were playing, una paloma blanca, and Spanish eyes, I could see two Policia coming towards the bar, at the last minute they did too and cut short the last tune and 'ran' round with the hat before they got their collar felt by el plod. The guitarist was off like a rocket, the accordion player went around the corner out of sight, then gently strolled back minus accordion. The Policia by this time were on the corner facing the beach clearly looking for 2 people with musical instruments. Then the accordionist came past again this time pulling a shopping trolley clearly to put the instrument in when he retrieved it, the type old ladies have in the UK on wheels with a canvass bag. He again went round the corner and came back strolling past the bar whispering in a loud voice "I be back tomorrow".... I did hope not.
Just as in England, Spain has hygiene rules and they send out council officials to ensure the rules are applied. The other day I was walking up to the shop to help my wife lift a heavy book shelf, when I met another of the shop assistants, Julie. She said: "Have you seen them"? I replied: "What". She said: "Are you going up to the shop"? "yes" I said. "I'll let it be a surprise" and off she went. When I got in Ange had her 'I am not impressed' face on. "Look at these" she said and proceeded to produce several overalls or tabbards I believe they call them, from under the counter. "We have been asked to pick the one we like". I thought well that's a good idea a bit of employee consultation get the best design and then get enough in for the staff. In fact I voiced my approval to Ange who nearly chewed my head off. "No, we have to choose one of them. Its going over your head isn't it Bob"? She then showed me one at a time."there is this lovely green number, with stains down the front and a label has been ripped off, there is this white one with a pocket and a rip sewn up, Oh, there is this one with 'Swissair' on the front. Julie has picked hers I have picked mine Sally and Rita have to yet," She was not happy. It seems the hygiene people had been in and tore a strip off nearly every procedure in the shop, one of which being the lack of tabbards for staff. So the owner always on the lookout for a bargain, managed to acquire a number of said tabbards. Anyway as I was not likely to see any mood shift in a positive direction, I made my excuses and left. last night I went in at about 6 pm and she was there wearing it....she had the white one with orange piping, the pocket and sewn up tear. Call me a coward but I thought I would not refer to it at all.
Back at the bar yesterday afternoon I managed to get a couple of beers and Jesus (pronounced eezoos) was in a strangely good humour. Normally he is Mr annoying and Mr Angry rolled into one. I said "Jesu tu es mucho tranqillo"(you are very calm) he just smiled and went to a table with four people who seemed to be German. He was chatting and off he went with an order came back with the order and gave them menus. Now the marina bar is not cordon bleu quisine, its more transport cafe than restaurant, but it has a varied selection. You can get burgers, chips, sepia a la plancha, calamaris, pork, bacon, etc and they do various baguettes with hot or cold fillings. The Germans placed their order and he returned with it. As he passed me he said "mucho tranqillo huh, not weeth bloody them" I am not too sure how they managed it, but in an instant they transformed Jesus back into his former irritable self.
It gets very hot in August and we are all suffering with the humidity, Its practically impossible to stay cool in the evening and throughout the night. Even if you have air conditioning it can be expensive to keep it on. On top of that, the other night when I was going to take my friends niece to the airport at 0345 I had to go to bed earlier than normal, so I estimated that if I went to bed at say 9 pm and got up at 2, and then went back to bed for a couple of hours at 5 in the morning I should be OK. Jonathan's sister had arrived on holiday with her son Joseph, so they were off for a Chinese and then going to heroes, they invited us but as I had this appointment I declined but said to Ange she may as well join them at heroes. Which is what she did. I went to bed. Boy is my timing perfect? Apart from the heat and the humidity, it was still light when I got in bed and i could hear all the kids in the pool, "mama", "Papa" followed by the odd scream and that gurgling sound they make when they have swallowed half the pool (why do they do that). As their noise abated, there was a rumble a kind of base noise...I had forgotten, they had set up a screen on the beach and were going to show a feature film, this is only yards from my apartment. This went on until 11.15 pm.
I thought now I get a chance to sleep, when all of a sudden, yes you guessed it someone dropped the marble on the tiled floor, and then those above decided they didn't like where the furniture was and it was too heavy to lift so they slid it all over the room. And not only the Senora of the house but I am convinced that the Senor too were wearing high heel shoes, so much was the clatter that it sounded like the horses hooves in Ben Hur the classic chariot race film. And somewhere in the block a baby had decided to throw a screaming paddy. Then my alarm went off. And Ange wasn't home yet.
So! I thought sod it I will get a shower, couldn't have anything to drink except soft drinks or tea, so I had tea and then coke hoping the caffeine would keep me alert for the 90 min round trip drive.
I logged on line to try and find a chat room with someone in I knew, but alas I was on the wrong shift. Even my nocturnal mate Julie was pushing out the z's. Then Ange arrived home proclaiming what a lovely night she had, and that she had only been on shandy too. (Not to mention the half bottle of wine she had before she went out.) At 0340 I went to pick Roslyn up and take her to the airport, and I arrived home at 5 am ish. My first job was to have a glass of bells whiskey by way of a de-stresser. Once drank I went to bed and maybe got 2 hours of sleep. So the moral of this tale is, if your friend asks you to take someone to the airport in the early hours of the morning, tell them to sod off...
Monday, 4 August 2008
Tourists galore but where is the money
...Since spending some time on the beach with Shell and Julie (and occasionally Shawn) my wife Angela has encouraged me to do the same with her. We went last Thursday for a few hours taking a picnic, and it was decided we would do the same on Sunday.
We got up early, spent the mandatory half hour applying the high factor sunscreen (August sun is very hot) cozzies donned and cool box filled we set off about 11.00am.
There weren't many on the beach, Just us and the rest of Spain! What I should have remembered was that this weekend is the beginning of the Spanish big summer break. Most of the city dwellers take all of August off work and many head for the coast.
There were two beds and a parasol placed ideally for us so we took them and paid the 12 euros hire charge to the attendant. The next phase is similar to watching a dog settle down for the night, we both position sunbeds, raise and lower the back, place a towel to lie on, take off all extraneous clothing, then at last we were lying in the position we wanted, which was me in the sun and Ange in the shade. Then I realised I was thirsty and the cold box is out of reach oh well enjoying yourself isn't always easy.
As it was 1100 am people were still arriving and the gap between us and our neighbouring sunbeds seemed to become a thoroughfare. And people who brought their own beds and chairs plus parasols, were settling in close proximity to us. So we seemed to be encroached on all sides until the ultimate negative when Ange said. "They are going to bloody walk over my bed in a bit that one just clonked me with his bag". Things seems to top out at around 1.00 pm.
A significant time for the Spanish is 2.00 pm or siesta time. If you watch them closely from 1.30 onwards you can detect, no, sense, their unease...they start to rustle like nervous steers in in a herd being corralled by the cowboys....what is happening is they can sense it is nearing meal time, and if they don't move at a certain time the world could possibly end.
At about 1.45 there was a distinct change in the direction of the pedestrians, instead of walking to the sea, they were walking in land. The talking volume increased, no doubt there were debates on which restaurant to go to what they wanted to eat etc. All around the beach people were tying up bags weighing down towels and securing parasols to the sand by twisting the stem down a touch more.
At 1.55, the cowboys had clearly started to drive the cattle train, there were Spaniards coming from all directions and by about 2.10 you might never have known they were there except for the little clumps of chairs, beds and parasols where they once were.
We could then eventually relax, me with a book Ange taking 40 winks and in between both of us sipping Tinto de Verano (red wine and un-sugared lemonade) and Mahou a Spanish lager. We decided also to have our sandwiches which would be our lunch.
Back to some serious sunbathing, and as usual in the afternoon the wind stared to blow, which tends to create tiny whirlwinds where the sand is curled up into the air. Also the less that secure parasols started to do a Mary Poppins without Mary in control. Across the top end of the beach is a line of awnings which people can put their beds under for complete shade. A family were sat in one eating their lunch when one of the parasols went into their table cascading drinks paella and anything else there. When the owner caught up with it, there was a minor altercation but everyone parted smiling.
By this time I had started to have my fill of sun and the invisible string which tends to pull me in the direction of the Marina bar was tugging a little. I agreed with Ange that I would go home with the bulk of the bags and bits and pieces and she would follow later.
Freshly showered and changed I sat at the Marina bar watching the beach re-fill after siesta, Antonio brought me two mahou's because sunbathing makes me thirsty and he said to me "eets bery bad, no-one comes thees yeer." I looked at the beach and said: "but there are thousands on that beach." he dipped his head and answered "yes but day are Spaneesh......and they no spend dinero...we need Briteesh.....Dutch....French...eet ees dees crisis no-one in your country has any money" I was tempted to say that it was Spain that controlled quite a number of UK airports which put up taxes for flights, but I bit my lip........
We got up early, spent the mandatory half hour applying the high factor sunscreen (August sun is very hot) cozzies donned and cool box filled we set off about 11.00am.
There weren't many on the beach, Just us and the rest of Spain! What I should have remembered was that this weekend is the beginning of the Spanish big summer break. Most of the city dwellers take all of August off work and many head for the coast.
There were two beds and a parasol placed ideally for us so we took them and paid the 12 euros hire charge to the attendant. The next phase is similar to watching a dog settle down for the night, we both position sunbeds, raise and lower the back, place a towel to lie on, take off all extraneous clothing, then at last we were lying in the position we wanted, which was me in the sun and Ange in the shade. Then I realised I was thirsty and the cold box is out of reach oh well enjoying yourself isn't always easy.
As it was 1100 am people were still arriving and the gap between us and our neighbouring sunbeds seemed to become a thoroughfare. And people who brought their own beds and chairs plus parasols, were settling in close proximity to us. So we seemed to be encroached on all sides until the ultimate negative when Ange said. "They are going to bloody walk over my bed in a bit that one just clonked me with his bag". Things seems to top out at around 1.00 pm.
A significant time for the Spanish is 2.00 pm or siesta time. If you watch them closely from 1.30 onwards you can detect, no, sense, their unease...they start to rustle like nervous steers in in a herd being corralled by the cowboys....what is happening is they can sense it is nearing meal time, and if they don't move at a certain time the world could possibly end.
At about 1.45 there was a distinct change in the direction of the pedestrians, instead of walking to the sea, they were walking in land. The talking volume increased, no doubt there were debates on which restaurant to go to what they wanted to eat etc. All around the beach people were tying up bags weighing down towels and securing parasols to the sand by twisting the stem down a touch more.
At 1.55, the cowboys had clearly started to drive the cattle train, there were Spaniards coming from all directions and by about 2.10 you might never have known they were there except for the little clumps of chairs, beds and parasols where they once were.
We could then eventually relax, me with a book Ange taking 40 winks and in between both of us sipping Tinto de Verano (red wine and un-sugared lemonade) and Mahou a Spanish lager. We decided also to have our sandwiches which would be our lunch.
Back to some serious sunbathing, and as usual in the afternoon the wind stared to blow, which tends to create tiny whirlwinds where the sand is curled up into the air. Also the less that secure parasols started to do a Mary Poppins without Mary in control. Across the top end of the beach is a line of awnings which people can put their beds under for complete shade. A family were sat in one eating their lunch when one of the parasols went into their table cascading drinks paella and anything else there. When the owner caught up with it, there was a minor altercation but everyone parted smiling.
By this time I had started to have my fill of sun and the invisible string which tends to pull me in the direction of the Marina bar was tugging a little. I agreed with Ange that I would go home with the bulk of the bags and bits and pieces and she would follow later.
Freshly showered and changed I sat at the Marina bar watching the beach re-fill after siesta, Antonio brought me two mahou's because sunbathing makes me thirsty and he said to me "eets bery bad, no-one comes thees yeer." I looked at the beach and said: "but there are thousands on that beach." he dipped his head and answered "yes but day are Spaneesh......and they no spend dinero...we need Briteesh.....Dutch....French...eet ees dees crisis no-one in your country has any money" I was tempted to say that it was Spain that controlled quite a number of UK airports which put up taxes for flights, but I bit my lip........
Saturday, 2 August 2008
Handbags
...My friends Julie, Michelle (Shell) and Shawn have just gone back to England after having spent a week in La Cala. Shell and Julie come over every year and stay in an apartment, so that they can relax away from the kids and daily pressure, soak up the sun on the beach, and visit their old mate Bob.
I picked them up from the airport and we went in search of the agency where they had to pick up the keys to the apartment. This turned out to be right at the end of the Rincon de loix, and we managed to park behind the agency. We went in the shop and was less than warmly greeted by a lady who apparently got thrown out of the Gestapo for practicing cruelty! She told us we had to return the keys on the day we left. I explained that would be 0830 in a week's time and would she be here to pick them up. She eventually realised that as the shop opens at 1000 am it would mean a very early start for her so she reluctantly agreed we could leave them in the lounge of the apartment as they left.
As they say location location location, and this apartment didn't have it. It is up a hill and Julie and Shell don't do hills! Shawn was already in town he had booked into the La Cala hotel for a night and he had to do hills on that occasion because we were trying to find the entrance to the building. Once we had it is a fairly comfortable apartment, but without air conditioning, this was another negative for the girls, but if nothing else Shell and Jules are Trojans and they decided the best thing to do was go to the Marina bar and get bladdered.
So we arrived at the Marina and they ordered drinks as did I and we reacquainted ourselves by chatting about various things for a few drinks more. It was eventually decided that we would go into the Old town that night.
Ange my wife was working but she was OK about me going out with them, and I walked up the hill whilst Shell, Julie and Shawn got themselves ready. Its hard to say which was the most fastidious, but on balance I think it was Shawn, who wore the blue shirt predicted by Julie.
We got a taxi to town and started in O'Maras where Jonathan works, the next bar was the Happy Handbag. This bar as the name implies is a gay bar and the guy who owns it Ken has a collection, no a plethora, of handbags adorning the walls and ceiling. These handbags are given by customers. Julie was like a child in a sweet shop (who by this time had a sufficiency of the falling over water inside her). We think she went round them 3 times before she sat back in her seat emptied the contents of her bag and handed it to ken. He placed it in a prominent place there and then. In an aside to ken Julie said that Shell had a Chloe bag and she would persuade shell to send it mmmmm!!!
We decided then to go around to Papagayo (a dutch bar and papagayo means parrot) the name is also a play on the word gay. Mario and Yuri are nice guys and always welcoming. We were all getting a bit worse for wear by this time, so we decided to go home after this bar until I got a text from Jonathan saying he was in the Company bar, so we decided one last drink with him.
It was getting on for 2 am before I got out of the taxi the girls had been up for about 24 hours.
I don't think they got up too early the next day, but when they did they settled on the beach, I took them up the hill in the car that day because they were coming to ours for a curry.
Each day they went to the beach and at some stage I would wander down and have a chat. Both shell and Julie had this observation about the Spanish sunbathers, no matter if they were swimming or sunbathing they always look elegant, their hair always in place, make-up perfect. So Julie decided one day that she was doing the make-up to perfection and emulate the Spanish senoritas, Shell said "After a swim she looked like she gone 10 rounds with Joe Bugner, the eye shadow smudged and lippy all over the place. We still don't seem to have the knack" They reverted to not bothering.
We spent their last night at paneils restaurant where as usual we had an excellent meal, we all drank sangria and had an early night. You may have noted that I don't mention Shawn much, well Shawn is like the elusive pimpernel we sought him there we sought him here, but at any time when we were together someone would say where did Shawn go.
I dropped them at the airport sad to see them go because they are great company and good friends, Shell did whisper to me "..and that Ken ain't getting my Chloe bag neither." ...... I look forward to next year...
I picked them up from the airport and we went in search of the agency where they had to pick up the keys to the apartment. This turned out to be right at the end of the Rincon de loix, and we managed to park behind the agency. We went in the shop and was less than warmly greeted by a lady who apparently got thrown out of the Gestapo for practicing cruelty! She told us we had to return the keys on the day we left. I explained that would be 0830 in a week's time and would she be here to pick them up. She eventually realised that as the shop opens at 1000 am it would mean a very early start for her so she reluctantly agreed we could leave them in the lounge of the apartment as they left.
As they say location location location, and this apartment didn't have it. It is up a hill and Julie and Shell don't do hills! Shawn was already in town he had booked into the La Cala hotel for a night and he had to do hills on that occasion because we were trying to find the entrance to the building. Once we had it is a fairly comfortable apartment, but without air conditioning, this was another negative for the girls, but if nothing else Shell and Jules are Trojans and they decided the best thing to do was go to the Marina bar and get bladdered.
So we arrived at the Marina and they ordered drinks as did I and we reacquainted ourselves by chatting about various things for a few drinks more. It was eventually decided that we would go into the Old town that night.
Ange my wife was working but she was OK about me going out with them, and I walked up the hill whilst Shell, Julie and Shawn got themselves ready. Its hard to say which was the most fastidious, but on balance I think it was Shawn, who wore the blue shirt predicted by Julie.
We got a taxi to town and started in O'Maras where Jonathan works, the next bar was the Happy Handbag. This bar as the name implies is a gay bar and the guy who owns it Ken has a collection, no a plethora, of handbags adorning the walls and ceiling. These handbags are given by customers. Julie was like a child in a sweet shop (who by this time had a sufficiency of the falling over water inside her). We think she went round them 3 times before she sat back in her seat emptied the contents of her bag and handed it to ken. He placed it in a prominent place there and then. In an aside to ken Julie said that Shell had a Chloe bag and she would persuade shell to send it mmmmm!!!
We decided then to go around to Papagayo (a dutch bar and papagayo means parrot) the name is also a play on the word gay. Mario and Yuri are nice guys and always welcoming. We were all getting a bit worse for wear by this time, so we decided to go home after this bar until I got a text from Jonathan saying he was in the Company bar, so we decided one last drink with him.
It was getting on for 2 am before I got out of the taxi the girls had been up for about 24 hours.
I don't think they got up too early the next day, but when they did they settled on the beach, I took them up the hill in the car that day because they were coming to ours for a curry.
Each day they went to the beach and at some stage I would wander down and have a chat. Both shell and Julie had this observation about the Spanish sunbathers, no matter if they were swimming or sunbathing they always look elegant, their hair always in place, make-up perfect. So Julie decided one day that she was doing the make-up to perfection and emulate the Spanish senoritas, Shell said "After a swim she looked like she gone 10 rounds with Joe Bugner, the eye shadow smudged and lippy all over the place. We still don't seem to have the knack" They reverted to not bothering.
We spent their last night at paneils restaurant where as usual we had an excellent meal, we all drank sangria and had an early night. You may have noted that I don't mention Shawn much, well Shawn is like the elusive pimpernel we sought him there we sought him here, but at any time when we were together someone would say where did Shawn go.
I dropped them at the airport sad to see them go because they are great company and good friends, Shell did whisper to me "..and that Ken ain't getting my Chloe bag neither." ...... I look forward to next year...
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