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Published: February 7th 2010
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Following on with the dream recitation, last nights contained a fruit shop, a hairdressers and my ex colleague and friend Bob. I also had a bad dream at one point which made me wake bolt upright but I don’t quite recall what that was.
Today we decide that enough is enough and we are going to splash some cash and escape up the coast to Puerto de Mogan where there is a weekly market.
So we are up early and off to the bus stop. The bus comes quickly but its not cheap at 5.80 Euros, still we need a break so its worth it. As we wind our way up the coast we pass a number of other resorts all of which look preferable to our own. Part of it is that the resorts we pass tend to be built around small bays and as such are quite compact and built up the steep hillsides rather than spread out over miles as Maspalomas and Playa del Ingles are. The benefit is of course while the streets are steep its only a relatively short walk to the beach and you can see the sea and the sand from whereever
you are.
The initial view of Puerto de Mogan is less than promising and the market itself is nothing special, certainly not a patch on the Hippy Markets in Ibiza, but its pretty in its own way and has a nice crescent shaped beach. We stop for an ice cream and I get chatting to an older couple from Bishop Stortford. We pass across a small bridge, enter the marina area and finally we find the sort of place we were hoping for.
Small white washed villas, little cobbled streets and masses of colourful flowers. The marina area is a revelation and we could both picture ourselves living and working somewhere like this. We take in more of the market which stretches around the sea wall but soon tire of the same old tourist rubbish and endless North African patter of “Looky, looky, good price”
We stop to eat our lunchtime sandwiches by the water and vow to come back one evening and splash out on a meal at one of the many restaurants.
The beach is packed with tourists but we imagine the place later on when the day trippers have departed and whilst it’s
not perfect, it is much nicer than anything we have seen thus far. We even find a gem of a Chinese silk shop in which Dee sees numerous things she would love but unfortunately due to our dwindling finances cannot afford.
On our way to the bus through an open square I look down into what I think is an air vent to a car park only to see what looks to be a Muslim Imam and an underground Mosk, perhaps Bin Laden is hiding in the Canaries?
The bus ride back is slightly intense with a kamikaze driver throwing us round with abandon and even I feel slightly sick by the time we reach our destination but its not been a bad day.
We have dinner and then since there is a full moon we decide to take a stroll (albeit a long one) down to the Maspalomas waterfront so that Dee can satisfy her craving for a desert more enticing than my staple of yogurt.
The walk down the barranco is transformed without the daytime tourist hordes and we come across a multitude of friendly cats. At one point we have a posse of
at least 5 black cats following us. They all look healthy and well fed but we vow to return with some food for them next time.
We reach the beach and I’m dying to run up the dunes in the moonlight but Dee has visions of unseen tsunamis lying in wait just off shore so we stroll on down the boardwalk and take refuge in an Italian restaurant called Sorrento where Dee has a tasty but rather overpriced desert of Tiramisu and I have a chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream.
On the return journey we are just marvelling at sounds of the wildlife in the adjacent wetland and enjoying the sounds and smells of nature in the moonlight when the night and indeed the nice day is completely spoilt by a incredibly stupid and arrogant b*tch and her boyfriend who spot a passing cockroach, stamp on it and then proceed to take photos of the carcass. It’s all I can do to restrain myself from grabbing a broken bottle out of a littler bin and setting about them to see how they like it.
People never cease to amaze and sadden me and I do wonder
what is wrong with many of them. Buddhist philosophy teaches respect for all life and whilst I happily adhere to that tenet when it comes to nature I do have great deal of trouble when it comes to many of my own species. Why do some people always feel the need to destroy things?
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