A Fine Day at the Beach

Today I took a bus to a coastal town about 1.5 hours from Granada called Aluñecar. The morning went suprisingly smoothly. First, in spite of not setting an alarm clock, I woke up in good time. (So far, the only really great part of traveling alone is that you can plan to do things like, ¨take the first bus available when I get to the station¨ and no one cares.) Anyway, I had planned to get breakfast at a little place down my alley (aka street) but realized upon emerging from my hostel, that the entire street was still sleeping. But you know, when you eat dinner around 9 or 10pm, and THEN start your evening, you really should still be asleep at 8am.

Anyway, the first cafetería that I stopped in had what I wanted, and understood that I wanted it to go, AND it was less than 3 euros, which means I didn´t have to break my only other currency (a 50 euro bill), which would undoubtedly have irritated the owner. Life was good! Then I didn´t have to wait on the bus to the station, and I even got a seat on the 9 o´clock bus, rather than having to wait for the 10 o´clock one. My easy morning continued as I couldn´t find my bus listed on the electronic placard, but asked a really nice lady who helped me out very kindly and without that not-so-subtle undercurrented attitude one often gets as a tourist of ¨Man, it´s hard to believe someone as stupid as you has survived to adulthood. Maybe there´s a flaw in that survival-of-the-fittest thing...¨

So off I went to my bus, only to be stopped in the aisle right by the driver´s seat. The guy ahead of me had been assigned a seat which was already occupied. Both of these guys were older Spanish gentlemen. Before I knew what was happening, the guy already in the seat starts jesticulating wildly and exclaiming all sorts of things I didn´t understand. At first I thought he was angry, but as this whole fiasco excelerated I realized that no one was really upset.

(if you´ve never visited a country that speaks another language, you´ve missed the joy of thinking someone is angry at you and then finding out that nope, people here just sound angry, because you can´t understand and you´re stressed out and scared. Really, they´re not mad, they´re just loud. Or maybe they´re not mad or loud, you´re just paranoid :)

So guy B (in the wrong seat) gets up, still expounding on something...presumably how it doesn´t really matter who´s in which seat anyway) and starts directing his jesticulation and verbal outbursts at guy C, who was apparently in guy B´s seat. So guy C gets up and proceeds to displace guy D, who is really supposed to be where guy E is sitting, etc., etc., etc. I swear, at least 6 people moved before it was all over.

In the meantime, here I am standing at the front of the bus wondering just how long this process could possibly continue and trying not to laugh out loud. I mean, it was quite amusing to watch all these eldery Spanish men and women resolve this issue together. The lady in front of guy B started saying, ´Arriba, arriba!´ (directing the guy to get up and move) and though I was trying hard not to smile, my eyes must have given me away because when she caught my eye she cracked a smile and I couldn´t help it. I started laughing.

Eventually everyone re-sorted themselves. I sat in a seat which was not mine, as mine was already occupied and you can bet your sweet bippy I wasn´t going to say anything. Finally, the bus rolled south.

The information kiosk was closed when I got there (dangit) but there were signs to the beach everywhere, so off I went. Soon after arriving at the beach a few things because very clear to me:

-the beach was not the nice, soft sand I had anticipated. It was a pebble beach, and I hadn´t brought sandals. Dangit.

-going to the beach seems to be a family affair in Spain. Lots of little kids, some of whom seem to have some trouble distinguishing between the sea and the toilet. Dangit.

-sometimes a one-piece bathing suit for a European woman is the bottom half of a bikini. I have experienced this before, but somehow blocked it from my memory and managed to be surprised again today. And while I have your attention, let me just say that I find it particularly ironic that the people who wear less clothing than average seem uncannily to be some of the people who should, perhaps, be wearing more. It´s almost like they got up that morning and looked in the mirror and thought, ¨Yuck. That´s not pretty. Well, misery loves company. Maybe I´ll go topless at the public beach today...¨ Dangit.

-there is apparently an ozone hole above the beach where I laid out today, as my skin -which, for the record, has gotten more sun than normal for this time of the year, so I wasn´t overly concerned about burning- definately got crispy-crittered during my time on the beach. ¨That explains all the beach umbrellas,¨ I thought to myself as I painfully picked my way back through the stones to the road. Dangit.

In spite of these minor setbacks, a good time was had by all in my party (aka, me). On the walk back to the bus station, an old man I passed on the street told me I was pretty, and at the bus station I helped a group of travelers whose Spanish was apparently even worse than mine. Sad for them, but encourging to me that there are mentally healthy people over the age of 4 in the country how are worse at the language than am I.

I have posted a couple pictures on facebook, should you care to see them. I wanted to get a picture of the feuding musical-chair players, but thought I might be pressing my luck, so you won´t see them. Sorry.