Seventh January Blog
Past Holidays, how good were they?
I have to to go back a long way here. Not for the first time either. It was in the early days of European Tours, I am thinking!
Not sure why I chose Spain, somewhere totally different from my normal life, but I had been to Canada the year before, and there was a time constraint on going there again. I loved Spanish guitar music, still do. Not so much electic guitars and sunshine. The reason is so far back in time, I have forgotten. Suffice it to say, I booked my holiday to Lloret de Mar. This was way before this destination became very popular, so was, at that time, relatively unspoilt.
The aircraft was not large, not like most of todays aeroplanes. On the ground, the floor had an incline up towards the cockpit. Once in the air, the plan levelled out and all was flat.
About three hours and we arrived at Toulouse, Southern France. From there, a coach took us to the walled city of Carcasonne. The hotel was bordered on one side by a drop into the lower valley. Quite a view from my room.
Next day, the coach took us into the Pyrenees, a little town, whose name I forget. The rooms, I remember, were all named after cars. Coach again into the Hotel in Lloret de Mar. Again, its name escapes me but it was right at the hill, ovelooking the town of Lloret and the bay. The Mediterranen is so blue. As I said it was unspoilt, so the lady I shared a room with and I, had a clear view right down to the town. No tall hotels or buildings inbetween. At the outskirts of the town was a church, its Moorish round tower roofs were covered in highly coloured, very bright in the sunshine, tiles. (Wsh I had some of those photographs now -but they are mislaid nd being transparencies, would need special treatment now).
The room I shared was semi-ground/lower ground level. We had ( for want of a better word, a small terrance), lots of sunshine, but early afternoon, some shade as well as the sun moved around to the back of the hotel. Little lizards invited themselves onto our terrace from time to time.
You have to realise that all this was totally alien to me at the time, 1961.
The hotel had its own pool. We often cooled down early afternoon when others were enjoying a siesta. We were English, ‘ out in the mid day sun’, and all that.
The beach was not real sand, not as we here know it, but silica. This is a bit sharp on the feet, so sandals at all times. Mind you, I did not venture onto the sand, other than to board a boat that would sail north around the bay to the more well known town of Tossa de Mar. Just for the boat trip on the Mediterranen to cool down with ocean breezes.
And there I will leave my memoire for today, continuing the trip another time. Suffice it to say that all experiences, however long ago, are worthy of remembering. They can always find a place in your writing somewhere, sometime, somehow, if they fit the scenario.
Have fun people.