Day Six: Roses

This morning started as things start to after a few days of holidays. I wake up early and Leslie lies about sleeping in. In fact she was last up.

Breakfast was juice and coffee and Danishes and toast and definitely not some disgusting white cheese on raisin toast! Cheese on raisin toast? Blech. A quick visit to the desk ID’d the bus station and we were off. We decided on Roses because it was only half an hour and devoid of twisty, turny mountain roads. Roses is more of a resort town and less of a quiet seaside village

As we arrived we were faced with the Mediterranean which was everything I expected: deep blue, warm, long sandy beaches and topless women. And of course the first thing I did was go looking for a boat, preferably a sailing yacht! While yachts weren’t in the budget, for 80 euros we got a small 35 hp for 2 hours so I count myself satisfied. I piloted us past the breakwater and into the bay and headed out into the wind before turning the helm over to Zak.

I should mention that we arrived in Roses well prepared for a day at the beach: Leslie in red hat and a seaside look, me in short sleeves and capris, Carmen in Carmen-pants and a holiday top and Zak in black jeans and a black hoodie…perfect for a day on the water…

Anyway, within about 2 minutes all aboard were soaked from the spray. As we headed upwind across the bay the water wooshed over the bow until only Zak had any semblance of dryness. The girls heroically decided on a wet-editors-gone-wild theme and sheltered Zak and I from the worst of the spray. After about 40 minutes we rounded the point complete with lighthouse and fort and floated in the sea for a time. Coming back along the coastline was more sedate and allowed me to doff my shirt and dry out. Leslie and Moosh however declined to air their laundry and dried more slowly and crustily… Ahhh salt water.

We hung out in the bay and then toured the inlet where all the fancy homes and rich people yachts hung out together, before Zak headed us back to the dock.

Having successfully negotiated the sea, now it was time to let the rising winds dry us out. The wind really came up much to the delight of kite boarders, wind surfers and a few hobie cats. They were just screaming across the bay. Between the salt, the wet and the blowing sand, the word chafing was soon verbotten. After a long walk down the promenade we stopped for beer and bites. Next up was a walk down la Ramblas where Zak finally picked up some Spanish playing cards and we eventually ended up at the bus station. A hot ride home and a walk up the hill had everyone dying for a shower. I discovered my lovely sunburn, but when last seen Carmen was still displaying her alabaster perfection. I’m not sure that she’s capable of a tan because unless she’s injecting uv40, she should be crispy.

Up next is dinner in the Hotel Duran restaurant, an elegant space that was a regular hangout of Dali’s and is decorated with many of his sketches. It doesn’t even open until 8:30. Later will likely be a walk, maybe some sangria and an early night.

This just in Carmen has pink skin! Woot!