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Global Quest For Local LETS
Copyright � James Taris

SPAIN

7. Sa Tuna Beach House


(left to right) Laura, Alicia, Xavier and Elias at Sa Tuna Beach
(notice the topless women?)

I'd only been in Spain for a few hours, when I found myself in a beach house in Sa Tuna. Alicia and Xavier, my Spanish hosts, had left a couple of their guests there and had travelled to Girona (100 kms. north of Barcelona) to pick me up from the railway station.

It was after midnight when we got back to the beach house on a hot summer's night. This didn't seem to bother Elias, as he added another log to the smouldering fire in the loungeroom. Alicia greeted Laura, Elias' partner, with a big hug and kiss as if they hadn't met for years. Then when all the introductory formalities were over, Elias insisted that a log fire always provided a special atmosphere, no matter what the weather!

"Toasting bread or cooking over a log fire is so much more exciting over a burning log," he assured me, as I wiped the perspiration off my brow.

The following morning we were off to Platja Fonda (Deep Beach), with its black sands and pebble shores. Xavier's parking skills were unsurpassed as he managed to sqeeze his little Lancier into a space which looked smaller than the length of the car itself. This saved us much walking, as the beach was packed on this beautiful, hot and sunny summer holiday afternoon.

The small alcove was surrounded by cliffs, topped with million dollar houses, and the beach was carpeted with brilliantly coloured swimmers making the beach look like a giant patch of hundreds and thousands.

The black sands retained the heat jealously, so it was imperative to were sandles to and from the water. And within a couple of hours I'd braved the deep waters and been for 3 swims, more than in the past few years! Dozens of simmers were in the water, and a few just lazed away on their air-matresses. Back on the shore, many ladies sunbaked topless (a very common sight on the Mediteranean beaches), even a much older wealthy lady who was being rubbed down by a very young and handsome toyboy, but I felt sorry for one lady in a yellow one-piece bathing suit.

She was a little plump, and when she came out of the water, she'd managed to trap lots of pebbles in the back of her swimwear. These uninvited guests had found there way in through the opening at the upper back of her bathers. And now she was busily on a seek and find mission, desperately running her fingers over her back and guiding those little culprits out of the closest exit possible. This routine went on for quite a while, when in a final act of frustration she peeled of the top part of her swimsuit, ridding herself of those little villains once and for all.

Lots of boats were moored nearby, most of which were in the middle of party festivities. Each time I swam out, I got to about 100 metres off shore and stopped. This seemed to be enough to satisfy my adventurous spirit, without turning it into a mini crisis. I'm not a bad swimmer, but we hear so many horror stories in Australia about sharks and creepy-crawlies, that it was as far as I dared to venture. As with many attractions over-run by tourists, there was an element of rubbish in the area which became intolerable at about the 100 metre mark.

As the hunger pangs set in, it was decided to drive to Aigua Blava (Blue Waters) another beach nearby. The restaurants were very busy, but finally we managed to get served, and enjoyed an interesting variety of food. Being Greek, I love olives. But I've never had them stuffed with anchovies before! A serving of dried and salted pig snout accompanied our Orujo drinks (an alcoholic brew appropriately named 'firewater').

But much of our conversation revolved around the pirate!

The pirate was a mean looking man dressed in shorts, sandals and tatoos. But the kerchief around his head gave him the appearance of a pirate. The restaurant owners had told him he wasn't welcomed to sit at their tables, but he refused to leave. So they refused to serve him! So over the next 45 minutes, we observed him as he gazed over the sea and made numerous mobile phone calls to 'who knows who'. But I guess the inevitable had to happen, and hunger got the better of him. And soon he was just an image in our memory banks.

This article is taken from the ebook,
Global Quest for Local LETS

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