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Barcelona Beach: the Rat, the Nudists and the Megaphone

Just to get one thing straight: we (meself and hersel´) are having a (metaphorical) ball in Barcelona. Note: I`m beginning to navigate the Spanish keyboard and have found the bracket symbols, along with things like the ñ,¿, and ç. Don´t know what they´re all meant to mean, but I do know that all those people who have bets on with Paddy Powers that we (see brackets above) would not last a day in Barcelona ( two queen bees and all that) were absolutely wrong. The absence of our 7 children for a whole week and the fact that two divas are sharing one room in a hotel has not yet led to catastrophe. Not even close. So as usual, Paddy wins.
Well we planned out our day today -  we were to go up the viewing tower in the Christopher Columbus monument, followed by a bus tour to the Park Guell. So it panned out the usual way that planned days pan out: we went clothes shopping and ended up on the beach. I´d read somewhere that there was a nudist beach in Barcelona, and that it was beside a gay beach. Well being a fan of both nudists and gays I decided that seeing as we had gone the wrong way anyways - in relation to the park and monument, that we may as well keep walking along the beach until we saw a white ass and then settle there for the afternoon.
Hersel´shrugged, but bought some sandwiches and drinks and tagged along. It turned out that the gay beach and the nudist beach were one.  And hang on, it wasn´t a gay beach at all, it was a homo nudist beach, all dangling dongle and no rubenesque ladies aesthetically rubbing oil along neck and nipple. And here´s what I hate: it was seedy. I don´t hate seedy, I just hate the fact that seedy and gay and nudist tend to get flung together into the same box, because come on, they are all so damn disconnected and yet...
I didn´t let it put me off even if I remembered the gorgeous nudist colonies I´ve frequented in France, all family friendly and that kinda thing, where couples were couples and it didn´t really matter if you were gay or straight or whatever. (Some of my best friends are heterosexuals by the way).
So we´re just about to sit down on this seedy beach and there it is. One big MASSIVE dead rat. I mean hello, I live with teenagers who exaggerate everything, but this was like (or as my teens would say: laak) huge laak, laak as big as a little dog laak. And I thought it was asleep beside the bins but hersel´ being a scientist and all that was able to confirm that the monster was dead, so I said that she could have my sandwich if she liked and suggested that it might be an idea to visit the next beach up; the one that the locals go to.
So that´s where the megaphone comes into it. We´re there after paying 17 euro (I still can´t find the euro symbol on the Spanish computer) for an umbrella and two deck chairs, and we have no bathing costumes because we had wandered here by mistake anyway and even if we were to go swimming we were thinking nudist ( as in nice French family friendly nudist and not all seedy nudist)  but then the megaphone began. It was all about where not to swim and what not to do and to mind your belongings, but I couldn´t help thinking that this must be what it´s like in communist countries - and Spain, God forbid, is not one, but the shock of this megaphone blaring away made me feel so much like I was in Cuba - laak - that we had to have a few Mojitos on the beach, because that´s one thing you can get there, apart from seedy and rats.
Well that was about it for today. The top of my right leg is a bit red and sore but the rest of me is as Oirish white as ever.
Tomorrow we´re going to the Guell Park and up the Christopher Columbus yoke. I´ll keep you posted...


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