We met Claire in Figueres, Spain. Her parents moved to Spain from Armagh when they retired and I can only hope my parents will do the same so I can have an awesome place to crash when I need to save a bit of money. For Easter Sunday we stayed at her friend’s holiday home in the South of France. Twelve hours we sat in the living room and out on the patio eating, drinking, and talking. I have never been so entertained while doing nothing.
After about 4 days we figured we had overstayed our welcome and decided to head to Barcelona. We arrived at 10pm with no map or plans of a place to stay. Only with a memory of a hostel in a plaza we had stayed in once before. Two hours later we booked a hostel and came to the realization we could not afford to spend the next week in Barcelona. The next day we headed out to Callela. Luckily, this turned out to be quite the little discovery. Callela is a perfect little beach town North of Barcelona with bars on the sand, strips of shops, and it’s not over run with tourists like us. We found the ApartHotel Safari on LateBookings.com for about 145 Euro for 5 nights. The room had a sitting area, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. A perfect little home!
On Saturday we headed into Barcelona to meet Claire for dinner and drinks. After getting ripped off by an all you can eat tapas dinner (we should have known better than to eat on Las Ramblas), we realized that we had missed the last train back to Callela. No worries, we’ll just stay out till 6am when the train starts running. Four hours down, four over priced Vodka 7’s later we tried to get into the strip club next door; not for entertainment purposes but for somewhere to sit. At the door they told us it was 20 Euro per person but we could not get in without a man. Apparently a lesbian couple (not that we are one) cannot enjoy naked ladies without a man to escort us in. Ridiculous! The next day was dedicated to sleeping.
Monday morning we headed out for a nice pleasant jog by the beach. Halfway down the trail we headed down some stairs to a little cove. After about 15 minutes we headed back towards the stairs.
Scene: Early 30’s Spanish man heading down stairs. Man gets to bottom of stairs, slowly unbuttons pants. Pulls pants down with boxers, lifts shirt up, stands with hands on hip and smug look of accomplishment.
Becca: “We’ve got a flasher on our hands.” Quick turn right and head down beach until he leaves.
End Scene.
One of Becca’s biggest fears is flashers. I have never been overly concerned with them until now. This is odd considering I’ve encountered my fair share of exhibitionists. I have walked past a man in the movie theatre hall pleasuring himself, driven up next to a man having his way with himself in his car, and a flasher stood next to Becca for a fair amount of time at Bay to Breakers before any of us noticed his dick was out. Not to mention we live in San Francisco and any festival or street fair you go to you are pretty much guaranteed to see a penis. This time however has scared me for life. Every time I see a man even adjust his belt now I am preparing for him to show me his junk. I just wish I had thought quick enough to laugh and say “Uno pequeno” and walk right past him up the stairs.
Love, Paige
