The Rain in Spain…

Fell mainly on the coast, but maybe that's just because I didn't go to the plains.
After the customer service girl at the luggage claim directed me to go upstairs, then proceeded to watch uninterested as the Spanish Policeman yelled at me (in Spanish) for going up the "exit ramp" I decided it was time to move beyond customer service "help." Anyhoo, after the saga that is traveling without a cell phone (yes impressive, I know I was impressed too until I was emailing people in California to get information about folk traveling in Europe…) I went ahead to "hire a car" (AKA rent a car) and headed for the resort. As I zipped around in my Peugeot, shifting gears while reading directions I was elated at street signs and blinkers, working head lights, no plumes of black smoke!! Though on/off ramps (narrow back alley driveways) took a little getting used, it only took slamming on my brakes twice before I started to trust that people merging actually do yield – back in the land of the working traffic light! And after a quick two laps in a light industrial area I caught my highway and left the city behind me – the stretch of road I was on felt like the Spanish version of the PCH as the sunset in the clear crisp air over the Mediterranean. Yes, this is what I call vacation.
Feeling rather accomplished (only after wondering if I wouldn’t be seeing a “Welcome to Portugal” sign at any moment), the guy at the reception desk welcomed me with adulation for not getting lost (apparently the lady the day before had spent five hours wandering around… this was especially well received since it seemed he was the one that had written the directions) and he had news that my mother was alive, just dealing with missed connections after a delayed flight.
Mom did considerably better at getting help – about 3 am I awoke from a knock on the door, 5 Spanish guys and… MOM!! A widening gender gap was quickly taking root in my appreciation of how friendly the Spanish are.
As I relished being cold mom defrosted. A chilly breeze was blowing rain clouds in over the beautiful water as we sat down for lunch. Teatime rolled around we marveled at the number of British expats populating the area (even have their own radio station), it would take us 2 more days before finding a restaurant that served paella, however Murphy's and Guinness, along with an assortment of Anglo gastronomy was bountiful – we acclimated to the micro-culture by finishing our meals with Irish coffee.