too much sun and rough seas

Different sort of beach day yesterday; it was though the tides were out of synch with a lazy Sunday afternoon. First we were unable to park in our usual spots because all the places were taken. So we drove a little further to a lot near the bus station. As we got out of the car, I asked Big Jim whether he knew the way back to the beach. From his response, I gathered that was a stupid question. We walked a couple blocks, and Big Jim crossed the street and carried on for several more blocks. I then asked him if there was a reason we were walking on the sunny side of the street. Natives disregard the lyrics of this popular tune, gladly trading the phrase's optimism for the slightest sliver of shade. I will walk so close to buildings that I'm practically hugging them if it means I can escape just a few rays of the afternoon sun. As we wandered through the back streets of Torre del Mar, it became apparent Big Jim was simply heading in the direction of the water but really wasn' t sure of the way. I decided to enjoy the diversion because we had never properly explored this part of town. After about 20 minutes of looking like lost tourists we popped out of a sidestreet right next to the press shop we were looking for to buy the Sunday newspaper. As soon as we hit the beach, we knew for sure it was going to be a different sort of beach day. The umbrellas were all pitched on an angle and low to the ground to guard against the winds. Straw mats left unattended and not sufficiently weighed down rolled and sailed across the shoreline. We staked our claim for the afternoon, and as Big Jim was putting up the umbrella, I noticed a complicated buoy system with multiple channels had been placed in the water since last week. I asked Big Jim what he thought they were all about. His darkly humored reply was, "To guide in the Moroccans." (Moroccans and other Africans attempting to cross the Med is a serious problem. The distance separating the two continents can appear deceptively close; for example, on clear days we can see the Rif Mountains in northern Morocco from our roof terrace. Every year, thousands pay fortunes to cross in illegal boats and some even dare to swim the narrower bits; many, many die.) The sea was rough and there were few people swimming. But I ventured out anyway; I had come to swim. As soon as my toe touched the water, I knew why people had chosen their towels over a dip: the water was bloody freezing! Still undaunted (I had come to swim remember), I took the full plunge. Once I got past the breakers, the water calmed some, but there was a strong pull to the east. It was not a day for lazy floating; I had to work hard so as not to come ashore in Torrox, several miles down the road. From the towel, Big Jim watch the windsurfers with envy, longing for his board back in the UK. He never ventured in past his knees yesterday, convinced he had seen a nasty "floater". I think he was mistaken; there was more seawood and driftwood than normal. I even saw a few small jellyfish, which was a first. After about 4 hours of reading and napping, I felt a wave of urgency to get out of the sun, instantly knowing I had been out for too long. As we walked back to the car, my suspicions were confirmed as I saw the stripe of red across my nose and cheekbones reflected back at me from the store windows. We walked along the promenade with our ice creams, opposite our normal direction, noting the restaurants and shops we never knew existed. One Italian restaurant and pizzeria looked particularly worthy of future investigation. On the ride back, we passed through Algarrobo, which is celebrating its feria. Families had gathered by a large bar-b-que to eat sausages and chicken cooked over the olive wood fire. Our favorite "Crazy Kangeroo" ride was entertaining those brave enough to dare. Many people lined the streets, and the gang of older men sat in the shade of the bus stop. Everyone appeared to be having a good time, but the thought of more feria partying made me weary. And then I remembered, only 6 more days until the Noche del Vino.... hasta luego, mylifeinspain