The Rain in Spain

Forget about what you have heard about the rain in Spain staying mainly on the plain. It’s along the coast and in the mountains too. At least that was our experience on day two. After making the switch from hotel to time share we had a few hours of daylight and sun, and took advantage of their “indoor” pool at Playa Andaluza the location for our first full week of the Spain adventure. This resort is located nearest to the town of Estepona. But after retiring for the night we had thunder loud enough to shake this three story complex, and lightning that lite up the room. A mediteranian storm to be sure. Woke us up in the night and kept us wondering what the next day—even week, might bring.

We awoke to passing storms of rain and wind on Monday…Jackie and Ben chose to snuggle in for a bit of “Charlie and Chocolate Factory” while I ventured out to explore the coastline. The beach was little dissappointing…some major rocks along the water line….imported beach sand to provide a beach setting. Still, being along the mediteranian coast was a bit magical, just not Hawaiian style beaches. Might have helped if the sun was shinning. Something about drizzle, brisk winds and 52 degrees that doesn’t conjur up visions of sun bathing. If it sounds like I am complaining…I definately am not. Just trying to paint the picture.

We took the grey day opportunity to go to the grocery store and stock up on supplies for the week. An experience in itself. Very different from the QFC but far better than the Supermercado of Mexico. The brands we know and trust are somehow missing from the shelves…so we are forced to roll the dice and hope for the best.

That night off to tapas and Sangria at the “happy talk” get together of Marriott guests. We had a great time meeting some English Bloks that we have now run into a few times…David and Barbara….they are regulars here so are happy to give us some tips. Plus some New York/Orlando retirees who shared their Marriott experiences with us. Word was we should head up into the hills to a small town of Benahavis for dinner…the largest number of restuarants per capita in all of Spain, or some such thing. So after a glass and a half of fine red Spainish wine under my belt, I had the courage to miander the streets of Benahavis. White stucco buildings stuck to the hillside with narrow streets wide enough for a pair of Vespas, but my mini-sub compact trying not to side swipe cars, buildings and passersby as I wedged my way up and down the side of the hill. Parking? Yea, that’s what we said…parking? Hmm. We roamed for a while, Jackie white knuckled and gasping at every turn. After getting lost like a kid in a corn maze, we decided that if we ever could find our way off the hill, we’d be happy with the experience and find food somewhere else where parking was possible….and streets were six or eight inches wider. That we did…and had a great dinner at sea level, on flat ground, with nearby parking and great food. This was our first, but likely not our last experience with the hillside towns, narrow streets and round-abouts at every block. I am becoming as gutsy, aggressive and random a driver as the locals….you have to, to survive.