Posted - 11/04/2008 : 00:17:02
| On Wednesday morning we made a change to our itinerary. Due to a series of disastrous outings we decided not to go on any more, but to stay in our base area and explore it further to see if we could eak out any undiscovered treasures.
We made out along the long, straight palm-lined avenue (I'm making it sound too nice here, in reality it was just a sunny street with an unbalanced ratio of zebra crossings to people - they must have ordered too much black and white paint or something).
Anyway, we found ourselves walking down the road where the Murcia return bus driver had chucked us off in a huff the day before after we'd realised we had missed our stop and I had shouted at the top of my voice 'stop the bus!' Quite a few sleepy people came round at that point, then scowled at me in unison.
It was a bit 'shanty' but we spotted two restaurants that we hadn't seen before and just a bit further on was a far nicer bit of beach than the one that was nearer our 'end'. There was even a beach bar, and lo and behold, it was open.
Now, every day up to this point had been riddled with extremely harsh winds. The sort of winds that grate on your nerves. We're not talking pleasant breeze, these were hairspray busting, cheek-tanning high winds that gave you earache and made your eyes water.
But today was different. A soft breeze gently tickled our cheeks and we thought, we're in here, we could sit on the beach, relax and get a bit of colour on our pale, winter ravaged faces.
We scurried back along the promenade which by this time was baking and we could feel our exposed bits being sizzled by the sun. It was quite a walk - we hadn't realised how far our legs had carried us. We needed stuff: sun cream, parasol, beach mats, a hat. Time to shop.
Luckily the limited services that made up our 'resort' included the ubiquitous 'toot' shop. We spent a few Euros and kitted ourselves out, then did the return, quite lengthy, journey to the nice bit of beach, set ourselves up and lay back to enjoy a few hours of what a holiday should be about. With the Mar Menor gently lapping at our tired feet, and the distant sound of a JCB creating yet more box-like homes for ex-pats, we started to relax and forget the trauma of the past few days.
Then someone switched the wind back on. 20 ****** minutes we had then that was it. The fine, powdery sand had stuck fast to our sun-creamed skin and we both looked like we'd been artexed. Our stuff was blowing around all over the place and every time we moved, something else escaped into the clutches of the gale. The soft, silken sand that I had been running my toes through just moments ago was now in my ears, eyes and up my nose.
So that was it. Several Euros spent, a few miles walked - and all for 20 minutes on the beach.
That was Wednesday.