Spain: A Different Life - Part II

#30 Aguadulce

Sundays and public holidays in Andalusia are real celebrations - with everything that goes with it. People dress up, meet with family, stroll along the promenade and then go to a restaurant. There they eat and drink together with their children, preferably for a long time. It doesn't matter if it gets late in the evening. The Spaniards seem to be unaware that children eventually have to go to bed, which is probably because the little ones are unaware of it and therefore not tired at all. At 10 p.m., they dart around the beach with loud cheers as if they had just climbed out of bed after twelve hours of deep sleep.

Speaking of dressing up! For a Spanish woman who takes pride in herself, leather pants are a must. No, not the ones from Bavarian costume, but long leather pants. The color doesn't matter, it just has to fit tightly. The tighter, the better. I have seen women here who must have grown into these pants, maybe they were born with them. In any case, it is unimaginable how they got into them. I probably would have failed with my big toe.

Probably now imagine in your mind's eye tall, slim women swaying their hips across magnificent squares and streets. But that's not always the case. Almost all women wear leather pants, and their figure plays a subordinate role. And they also carry their best piece with a radiant smile and proud look. That deeply impressed me. This courage, this determination, this self-acceptance envelops these women in a vibrant liveliness, a deep sensuality.

I have to admit, I would have liked to experience the Sunday parade of Spanish women in one of the larger cities. But that is almost impossible, because it is impossible to find a parking space in Almeria, Cadiz or Seville on weekends, especially with a motorhome. I already had big problems in Almeria on weekdays. And then parking is not that easy: There are different colors on the side of the road that show whether and how long you are allowed to park. And maybe a parking ticket is also necessary, which has to be solved and paid somewhere. But who knows that? I didn't know - and promptly I got a ticket. Parking without a ticket: 70 euros. The ticket was issued at 12.55. I parked the motorhome at 12.50. The police, ticket inspector or whoever must have acknowledged that to me. In Germany, it costs 10 euros and only since a few months ago. Previously, it was 5 euros.

But the risk of parking incorrectly again is not very high. In the next few days, we will start the journey home. The packing has already started. Let's see, maybe I will get in touch again on the way. When we are back home, there will definitely be a farewell report with a little conclusion. Promise!

P.S .: Unbelievable! Imagine, when we took a walk last night before going to bed, we met a woman who was cleaning corners and walls with a water bottle. Berry and Pipo couldn't look at that! And I - I have to admit - also had a hard time. Icke suddenly grew by at least ten centimeters next to me. Luckily, we are going home now.