Summercat

*This is an account I wrote a while ago, of a particularly beautiful day in Spain, spent with my friend Emma*

"EMMA!"

"I'm over this!" she moans as she slams on the breaks and we recieve an ear full of abuse. Your average spanish old senor, simply trying to cross the road, before we show up on the roads.

"Em, seriously! It's a zebra crossing! You have to stop for these people"

This is the third time we have nearly crashed the car, and the third time we've recieved an onslaught of intense Spanish abuse. The first time we pulled out in front of an oncoming car. The second incident involved us driving on the wrong side of the road. That was probably the worse. I honestly saw my life flash before my eyes.

The doddery old man makes it to the other side, I give an apologetic wave and we continue on our disasterous journey. Destination: Beach. Although with the petrol running critically low, and Emma making endless wrong turnings, its debatable whether we will ever make it.

I hang my arm out the window and Emma changes the track on the CD she made, entitled 'Summer Driving Tunes BABBBBBBY!' 'Summercat' by Billy and the vision comes on. One of our favoroites. Emma turns up the volume and we begin singing along 'I kissed you goodbye at the airport, held you so close to me, I said, so here we are now, and I cant stop from crying lilly....'

"Is that what they are called in Spain? Zebra crossings?" Emma asks after we have successful sang the first verse and chorus

I consider her point. "I dont know" I muse as I gaze out the open window "What's the word for zebra in spanish? I dont know that one"

"You're asking the wrong girl Pammy. I can barely introduce myself" she lets out a roaring laugh which wakes me up from my dreamy state "Remember in Madrid? CERDO! CERDO! The only thing I could think to say to that bastard"

Last month, we made a trip to the capital to relax and unwind. Ok, I say relax and unwind, but I dont think a 3 day hangover constitutes as relaxing. Anyway, you can't come to Spain without seeing Madrid. It would be shameful to do so. Well, within half an hour of us being there, my purse was stolen on the metro, and I was penniless. Apparently the fact that I have blonde hair and chalky white skin makes me an instant target. God damn my genes.

We eventually caught up with the man who'd taken it, although he obviously didn't have it by that time. The sneaky so and so had handed it to someone else. In true and fabulous Emma style, she let rip on him, screaming the only word she could remember at that time. 'Pig'. The man was arrested, but I never did see that purse again (shame as it was a good one. A very convincing knock off Chanel) Later that evening, we ended up at the rather dashing policeman's house, drinking all night and getting obscenely drunk. But that's a story for another day.

She takes her eyes of the road (for much longer than I'm comfortable with) reaches into the handpocket and throws me a weighty book. Its a complete guide to Spain.

"Here. Have a look. There's a section on roads and driving in there" she says, whilst bopping her head to the music.

"Maybe you should revise that section" I smile, skimming through the pages to the right section. I skim over the english to spanish translations "Cant find anything about crossings. But this might come in useful. 'lleno por favor" I say in my best spanish accent

Emma changes the track again."Meaning?"

"Fill it up please"

"Nah, don't worry about that poss" she shrugs. "This baby goes for miles on the red light. Trust me"

It's 9.30 by the time we finally arrive at Samil beach, and the day is slowly winding down. We park the car in a suspicious looking no parking zone, with Emma's justification that we were only going to be an hour or so.

Its been an exceptionally hot day, but with the sun setting, the beach is emptying and those left are mostly couples, romantically strolling along the shore and appreciating the summer evening scene. On the way, we spotted a Lidl ("Pammy! Spain have a Lidl! Who knew?! Lets stock up on supplies!") and managed to change the language to English on the tomtom. We chose 'Sean' from Ireland to guide us safely and calmly here (Emma has a thing about the Irish accent, and admittedly, so do I)

"Here we go Em, Playa de Samil. What do you think?" I say, taking a sip of my bottled Lidl orange juice.

"Oh Pammy! Its beautiful here!" Emma gushes, kicking off her sandals. This is the first time she's seen Samil beach.` We are both au-pairs, but living in different areas of Galicia. She doesn't live ridiculously far away, but far enough for us to feel the distance. So when we do get to see each other, we fully make the most of it and usually try to have adventure styled fun.

I smile, feeling all of a sudden light and happy. She's right, it really is beautiful. Especially at this time. These days, now we are at the height of summer, Samil gets madly over crowded, everyone battling to get a small bit of sand to place their towels. But right now, its sheer bliss. The times which I have enjoyed best at this beach have been spring afternoons and evenings like this. Both quieter times. Spring days when its just warm enough to take a long walk all the way to the next beach along, Bao. And evenings when the sun is setting and everything is gorgeously picturesque.

I immidiately start snapping a few shots on my camera. Ive always loved photography, mostly of nature and landscape.

"Do something Em!" I shout to her. Shes already wandered off in the direction of the sea. She jokingly strikes a few poses and then does an excellent handstand, her long legs high in the air and her arms easily keeping her in balance.

"Good one!" she compliments herself as she swiftly lands back on her feet. "Pammy!" she calls over to me "I just wanna get LOOSE!" she exclaims as she whips of her sundress to reveal her red bikini and runs full pelt into the sea. I laugh and snap some more pictures as she dips herself under the water and begins swimming. She looks so free and content. And I wonder if this is it. Is this why people decide to travel? Is this why people are so desperate to break away from their usual routine? For moments like this? To meet people like Emma? I close my eyes and breathe in the sea air. Maybe I think. Maybe.

 

• summer
• Spain
• beach
• music
• friends
• accidents