I didn’t sleep well last night. The bed has a memory foam mattress (I think it was remembering someone else). I woke up feeling tired, achey and home sick. I’m not that good at doing holidays, I like to be in my familiar habitat. When I heard that it was raining in France and foggy in Wiltshire I felt a bit better about things, especially as the sun is shining here.
We are at Javier’s place in Nerja. Nerja is a busy seaside town seething with elderly ex-pats, parking is almost impossible. Our little Andalusian villa is tucked away in an oasis of palm trees, orange trees and bougainvillea well away from the hubbub and zimmer frames. We found Los Hamacus through Airbnb and it looked idyllic on the website. It’s a quirky little place, a bit shabby around the edges and the garden is a jungle but we like it here. Paul is happy because there’s a donkey in the next door garden. Javier is charming; he was still mopping floors and making beds when we arrived.
The beach is just across the road but it’s steep and pebbly, not easy for walking. We are having a lazy day reading on the sunny verandah and drinking freshly squeezed oranges straight from the tree. Actually I had the orange juice at breakfast and we’re now on to cold beers. We’re here until Saturday so plenty of time to relax. I wish Javier would come and cut the grass.
|let me out|
|I wish Javier would cut the grass|
|freshly picked orange and tangerine|