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........