I think there may have been a slight bit of unspoken trepidation from pretty much everyone I know as to whether I was going to make it on this holiday or not. I got on the plane with no hysterics however and hardly even a sweaty palm. Zak was checking on me during take off whereas Sebi chipped in with: 'Does that wing look broken to you?" I'd like to think he doesn't do it on purpose...but...!
I was determined to get a feel of the 'real Spain' and so we ventured into a fairly untouristy part of Andalucia. I was pretty good at languages at school and a couple of years ago in Lanzarote, I cheerfully ordered for everyone in Spanish, so just assumed I would sail through it again. Oh no. It is a little bit different when nobody at all anywhere speaks any English, and everyone is completely relying on you to get them anything to eat, and an A in GCSE Spanish approximately a thousand years ago doesn't really seem to help at all! Day 1 was painful. I headed off to the supermarket; got lost in the old town and then couldn't find my way either to the supermarket or back to the hotel. It didn't help that I stuck out like a sore thumb in my bikini with a playsuit on top whilst the Spaniards were in jumpers, coats and scarves!
I grew in confidence however, and, by about Day 4, I was ordering confidently and not even recoiling in horror any longer if the waiters dared to talk back to me! It's all well and good practising your phrase in your head and saying it out loud but then for goodness sake don't ask me any questions; I'm done!
We decided to eat out on New Year's Eve as the hotel was fully booked for its Gala Dinner. As we headed out into the town we noticed that everything was shutting its shutters and everyone was heading off the streets into their houses. My husband refused to give up however and we walked every inch of pavement in Almunecar looking for food and drink. Eventually we found a take away selling burgers and chips. Zak's eyes lit up but my dear husband was unwilling to sacrifice our family's NY meal to a takeaway. I'm a firm believer of any port in a storm and so quickly ordered food for the four of us. Stu told me that he wasn't eating take away on New Year's Eve and so I pretended I had only ordered for the kids. A couple of hours later the cold chips were washed down a treat with Cava in our hotel room after we trudged past everyone in their finery gala-dinnering. Pure class...
Sebi's OCD tendencies were on clear show as he started a stone collection on the beach. Out of the ten thousand million pebbles on the beach would you believe that both of the boys' favourite stones happened to be the same bloody one? What are the chances? World War 3 kicked off until we accidentally managed to get exhibit A eaten by the sea. When we came back to the beach the next day Sebi suddenly announced he wanted to check that his stone collection was still intact. We all had our hearts in our mouths but miraculously it was still as it had been - thank goodness. Another disaster averted.
The journey back was equally as uneventful. My children have inherited their mother's champagne tastes however, and, when offered burger and chips in Malaga airport demanded to use 'Grandad's special card again to get into the nice lounge with WIFI and free food'. Sorry Dad. Thanks for that; we owe you, a lot. We toasted Grandad's generosity as we sat down in the oasis but I had to laugh when Zak asked if all the other people were allowed in the lounge purely because of Grandad too!
A bit of winter sun and family time did wonders at this time of year. I now need to wring out my liver and return to the real world of work for a few months before we head off on the birthday jolly. As Zak said, I'm sure we can use our leftover euros in Muscat! ;-)
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