The next day, I made my way to the beach resort. The city wasn’t relaxing me. Or maybe I had forgotten how to! To be honest, I had thrown everything up in the air at the same time, what with giving up caffeine spontaneously. Jeez, it was making me moody.
I got on the road early. I am not one to lay in. I left my room typically tidy, apart from a few empty, strewn horchata bottles. I had my full backpack on this time, and I looked kinda cute.
Yes, it was still sunny by the beach, but it was a different type of sun. Unsurprisingly, my room wasn’t ready at 12 noon, so I went on a wander. The sunbeds were out, but nobody was on them. I didn’t want to be the first. After all, I was already trying to avoid looking English, so I had chosen to wear my jeans that day.
I found a grassy verge and laid there, no doubt looking neatly homeless. I drifted in and out of sleep, with my head on my valuables. I then wandered more, and then went to the hotel.
Gosh, at just £25 per night, it was BEAUT of a room. Sea-view, balcony, natural pillows, what more could I want?! I hung out, lolled about, read my ‘Down Under’ book on the balcony, got a tan, and an increasing headache. It was hard to detect if I had sunstroke or caffeine withdrawals. Oh well!
The hotel lift is quite scary, I have to note. It banged and clanged as I went up in it. I am now using the stairs each time.
The resort was delightfully out of season, quite an amusing ghost town. Most establishments seemed surprised to have customers. I had my evening meal at a seaside Spanish joint, ordering Gazpacho to help kick off my healthy few days. I also ordered sausage and beans, which I imagined would be like a Cassoulet. It was not. It was a dry sausage and some crispy white beans. Quite nice, but by now my caffeine withdrawal/sunstroke headache was taking hold. I had forgotten I’d also ordered bread with ham and tomatoes.
I was now sitting with lots of food I couldn’t eat and nowhere to hide it. It was like that episode of Mr Bean! I managed a bit more sausage, piled up the beans to look like less, and asked the waiter to put my breads into a bag.
Back in the hotel, I started to watch a Pedro Almodovar movie with English subtitles, but this became too taxing, so I switched to The Martian, and watched it with my eyes closed. I drifted in and out of sleep. When the film finished, all I could then hear was the waves, a smattering of tourists and some car driving down the road, twice, playing Careless Whisper.