Mazarron Report

I thought this would be easier if I broke it into parts. Monday morning we hopped the metro to the bus station, then caught the 9:00 bus to Puerto de Mazarron. Its a 7 hour bus ride, but we had seats right up front, and it was nice to see the Spanish countryside.

Occasionally, they have these enormous cut outs of black bulls just posted at random throughout the country. My Aunt said they used to be part of a marketing campaign, and then Spain asked the company to leave them up as they adopted the bull for their symbol.

This is Mazarron:



And our beach house:



Once in Mazarron, we followed this grueling schedule:

11-Noon: Wake up, have breakfast

12-4:30ish: Hang out at the little beach

5: Lunch, following the Spanish tradition, lunch was big. My Aunt always made us traditional Spanish food, such as tortilla, pasta and chorizo, salad with oil and vinegar dressing, gazpacho, tomato and garlic sauce spread on toasted bread, flan for dessert. Hmmmmm.

6-8: Nap

8-10: Wander down to town, get ice cream, or waffles, nice thick Belgian waffles with chocolate sauce, whip cream, and then more chocolate sauce poured on top, or even just a drink of Horchata.

10: Light dinner

10-2: Read

2: Go to bed

Here's the little beach at sunset:



While at the beach we got to meet all of the neighbors, which of course led to kiss-kissing.

Interesting note: Kiss-kissing in ocean waves takes timing and coordination skills that I apparently, do not have.

Wednesday we went to a neighborhood costume party. Unfortunately, neither BSA or I had thought to pack a costume. Everyone else was dressed up though. There was plenty of food and drink. We sat a table with a French couple, and then were joined by 5 party goers, only two of which could speak any English. It was still fun. There was an older lady, late 50s, who was dressed like a Roman Empress. She was a character. I wish I could speak Spanish, because whatever she talked about sounded hilarious.

She would start speaking, gesturing and going off, everyone would be cracking up, including us even though we didn't understand her, and then when the laughter died and there was a pause, she'd lift up her class and say "Ching Ching" which is the Spanish equivalent of "Cheers." So it went like this.

Lady: Ching Ching! Everyone clicks glasses and says ching ching
Lady: Starts talking with expansive gestures and everyone starts laughing.
Everyone stops laughing, sigh, quiet moment.
Lady: Ching Ching!!
Repeat...

After dinner our host brought out a guitar, and many of the partiers gathered and sang Spanish folk songs, including my Grandpa, who I didn't know could sing.

Then there was dancing, and an awards ceremony for best costume.

We left at 3(am) but the party went till 5. It was awesome.

While shopping in Mazarron I bought a red leather wallet with black tooled flowers. Less than a week later, a pickpocket stole it out of my backpack as I walked through Madrid. I call this, The Spanish Wallet Life Cycle.
Fortunately, I didn't keep my passport in it, otherwise I'd have a post titled "Corbeau's Adventure at the American Embassy."