My family was in Granada, I needed milk for my coffee and I was hungry. I walked to the store, past the resort where children were running around like magpies and I wondered where their parents were. And I was prepared to catch the little ones before they ran into the street. I passed two pubs where people were eating their breakfast and whoosh. I was in the store. One should NOT go shopping when their belly is growling... I went for milk and came out with a bag so heavy I had to carry it like a baby wrapped across my chest all the way back home again.
And then the brainstorm hit. The bus ride into Fuengirola sounded like a good idea. No driving today. I had 1,55 in coins clutched in my hand, jumped on the bus and dropped the coins into the little money thingy. When the bus driver gave me my ticket, I turned around to see the entire bus filled with old people --- all going in my direction. I'm sure they were all older than me, but I keep forgetting how old I am, so who knows?
Everyone was talking and once I sat down, they pulled me into their group. I love the camaraderie that seems to follow wherever I go and glad my shyness disappeared years ago (mostly). I learned that English people love to live here because it's cheaper than the UK, they go to pubs that serve English food, speak English and think English. I asked if any of them spoke Spanish? None! When I asked why, they told me all of the above. I felt a little like a fish out of water, but everyone was nice and told me not to worry. I didn't need to speak Spanish. What? That's what I came to Spain for. They looked at me like I had two heads.
Once in Fuengirola, I knew where I was, so walked down the street past a little tapas bar until I saw the bullring and turned right...followed Calle Jose all the way toward the train station. Now that I had my bearings, I headed toward the beach area. I could hear seagulls, feel the breeze blow my hair (almost long enough now for it to move now) and watched the breakers turn white with the wind.
I'd taken my iPad with me because I wanted to write the beginning preface for my memoir that will eventually be my daughter's story and her fight against Cystic Fibrosis. The cafe near the beach had a bright red sign, I found a seat and spent over two hours there with several cups of coffee (hope I can sleep tonight.) It was an emotional challenge for me and I won the fight with the tears. This time, I finished three pages. This time, I am ready to write the memoir when I return home again. The words flow.
Afterward, I waved goodbye to the beach, threaded my way back to the bus stop and climbed on again. I was stunned to see my English seatmates on the bus! I guess since the bus is 5:00 and the next and last stop would take us home in the dark, they knew it made sense. By now, we were all friends and maybe one day I'll see them again. No Spanish but lots of smiles and laughter. Some days, that's all you need.
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