Sunny day, weekend, deserted beach. Sounds good.

Deserted beaches, sunshine and sheds. Crappy tapas though

Still feeling hungry?

Marigold says

 

Back to the coast, just driving along on a road we've not been before when G spots some camper vans in a clump. Motorhomes all together, not on a campsite, usually means there's a good beach nearby so off we went.

 

They're mostly German, some Dutch, a couple of Brits and there's a huge stretch of beach with nobody on it. At the weekend, on a sunny day. Camper van people just know the good places to go. 

 

We walk along the beach, find some sheds used by fishermen, brilliant sheds too if you like your sheds to be homemade and rustic like we do. We find a cafe and as it's Granada province we get a free tapa with every drink. It's a lovely spot but the tapas are rubbish, even for free. Oh well. 

 

There's a boat out at sea and we wonder which of the people in the cafe own it. G decides it's a fat bloke with lots of tattoos, but I think it belongs to the older couple sipping cocktails. Turns out to be none of them as G points out the boat still has its little boat attached so they can't have gone ashore. Oh well. I never know what to call boats, is it a yacht, a sloop, or something else? A schooner, or it that just for drinking sherry in? A boat with sails anyway.

 

The older cocktail drinking couple turn out to be Dutch and they chat with us a bit about their motor home and compare places we've all visited. They've been parked up here for two weeks and are on their way to Tarifa, when they get round to it. Like most Dutch people they speak good English, but I find the accent difficult sometimes. Yesterday we stayed at a Hotel Rural, which just means a cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere, and the owners were Dutch. He was a bit of a hippy, ponytail and all and she was very tall, very fit looking and very mannish. G said she nearly crushed his hand when she shook hands but her husband had a handshake like a wet lettuce leaf. There was a photo of them on their wedding day behind the counter and I said that it was nice.

 

'How long have you been married?' I asked.

 

'Forty years.' 

 

'Oh, nearly as long as us then, but we're closer to 50 than 40 now,' I said and she gave me a funny look. 

 

'We got married in 2002,' she said sniffily. Oh, she must have said 14 not 40, but it sounded like 40 to me. Fortunately G wasn't there. When he came back I said how old do you think they are? He said he, the husband, was about 50 and the wife about 42 or 43. I said, ' I asked them how long they'd been married and I thought she said 40 years.' G gave me one of those looks. 'Not very likely then?' He said.

 

The couple who owned it did speak English with a strong accent so a natural mistake, perhaps! I'd been talking to the man for ages, calling him Fritz, and eventually he said 'why are you calling me Fritz, my name is not Fritz.' He said what his name was and it still sounded exactly like Fritz so I pretended I had to go back to the room and ran off. 

 

At breakfast, very good breakfast, the next morning, Fritz's wife was wearing very, very short shorts, perhaps trying to make herself look younger! Fritz appeared from behind us and bellowed 'eggs' very loudly. 

 

We both jumped a foot in the air and then he said 'soft or hard?' Really strange. The eggs were very good though. 

 

They didn't ask us to do a Trip Advisor review when we left. Wonder why. No idea where we're going next . Just wander around a bit and get lost. We find good places when we do that.

 

Fisherman's Friend?

Another  shed

Rubbish tapas, even if they are free.

Not so local resident, living in a house with fabulous graffiti on the walls

The sloop John B

The graffiti

More of the house wall art

Arty photo. Sand dune perhaps? No, a parasol edge against the sky

Inventive method of supporting car while repairing a puncture

Okay, not fancy, but I like doors. Especially blue doors