My daughter uncovered these picture recently and as they are from our holiday in Fueingirola, I thought I’d include it and repost this blog, which I originally wrote three years ago.
So without further ado I give you:
‘Adventures of three women in Fueingirola‘
We were in our mid to late twenties and the three of us, myself, my friend Fiona and my sister Jackie resolved to treat ourselves to a week in the sun, and hit upon the idea of heading towards Fueingirola in Spain.
The order in which the following incidents occurred is largely forgotten and I’m sure there are others which my two companions at the time would choose to include, but this is what I can remember from over twenty years ago:
The young girls from Newcastle, who looked to Fiona as a mother figure and insisted on calling out to her whenever they saw her. They were completely fascinated by her, it was like having a small but very determined fan club.
Our wandering off, one day after our teas, coke and chips and completely forgetting to pay. It wasn’t until we stopped for our second refreshment break that we realised we hadn’t paid for the first. Unfortunately because we had wandered off in a bit of a haze, we couldn’t retrace our steps to settle up.
Being told by an alleged drug dealer, that they wanted to change careers and do something in IT. This has got to be one of the most bizarre conversations I have ever had in a night club or anywhere else for that matter.
The day trip Jackie and I undertook, Fiona wisely decided to spend a day by the pool. The trip involved us getting up at some ridiculous time in the morning after a night of ‘clubbing’, I guess we thought we should make the effort to do something ‘cultural’.
I managed to snore my way through most of the spectacular scenery and the accompanying talk by our guide. This didn’t go down too well. Then Jackie and I spent the rest of the time making sure certain members of our party did not get left behind as our ‘guide’ seemed completely oblivious to their safety.
The young man who introduced himself to us as ‘D’ – and my not very kind response, “Hi, this is A, B and I’m C.” I’d forgotten about this until my sister reminded me a few years back.
Lego man – as he came to be called by us. Simply because he had been trying to explain to us where he came from and we just couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. So in exasperation he told us it’s where Lego comes from, once we understood Lego, we were fine.
Applique lady – who was always stopping to fill us in on the hotel gossip. Bizarrely we were the only under thirties staying in this particular hotel and I think she wanted to see what we ‘youngsters’ had been up to.
The lovely mixed race, Brazilian, German man we met. We could barely understand each other but he was stunningly good looking and always came over to say hello with a big smile whenever we saw him.
The young lads who advised us to leave a club ‘sharpish’ when it looked like one of their mates was getting decidedly angry at not getting the attention he wanted. We did indeed take their advice and leave before things ‘kicked off’.
Sharing a room with two determined smokers and what seemed like hundreds of packets of cigarettes. Wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t just given up myself.
The three of us heading straight for breakfast after returning from another club, accompanied by a wry smile from the hotel receptionist who had watched us returning later and later as the week progressed. Or earlier and earlier depending on your point of view.
Leopard skin woman, who we learned to avoid as we guessed I think correctly that she was quite nasty and decidedly dangerous – enough said.
How we overslept on our final night, having carefully set the alarm the night before – we woke up with five minutes to get ourselves dressed, packed and down to reception to get the coach back to the airport.
So there you have it.
Another very funny and memorable holiday, and my first ever with just the ‘girls’.
Until next time