The Frogmarch

"I've got to pull up my stakes and roll, man." --Jean-Jacques Libris de Kerouac

Friday, January 04, 2008

Postcard From The Road: Cabopino

There is, at the absolute bottom of Spain, just across the water from Africa, a place that is proudly English, a colony where English is spoken, pubs show the Tottenham-Fulham match, and a plate of bangers & mash or chip-shop curry fries are always just around the corner.

There is also Gibraltar, but we didn't make it there on this trip.

The southern coast of Spain, especially the area around Malaga, is the site of massive beachfront development by UK developers and the industries and services that have grown up to support them. And spurred by cheap airfares from the UK, Brits have mobbed the place--most signs are in English, there are several local English newspapers, and grocery stores stock large sections with HP sauce and Heinz Baked Beanz.

This is not necessarily a bad thing: In a way, it creates a part of England that is (1) affordable and (2) has nice weather, solving two of the drawbacks we found in England when we visited in October.

On the other hand, where is Spain? There must be a part of Spain that is cheap, has good weather, and is not covered with grotesque condos, golf courses and chain retailers like a European Myrtle Beach... we just haven't found it yet.

It's hard to complain, though, when you're spending Boxing Day lying on the (sandy!) beach at Puerto Cabopino watching the sunlight play on the gentle waves while Boog digs a sandcastle and Tater shrieks in delight at the surf washing over his toes. Maybe after a while you'll go down the pub for a pint of the brown stuff and see how City are getting on against Liverpool. Or maybe just a nap.

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