An early start enables reading and room clearing before setting off at 10.30, aiming to loop round Guardiaro, under the dual carriageway into Sotogrande and back through San Enrique ... short enough on the map and short enough in retrospect in linear time ... wandering in the hell realms, as is well known, stretches time out in order to prolong the agony ...
Development hereabouts has concentrated on the car-borne (leaving aside the yachties and helicopteristas for now) ... as roads were improved and pavements between settlements neglected, roadside properties were fenced, forcing pedestrians to risk life and limb ... occasional refuge may be found in the storm drains, which, due to the dry climate with occasional inundations, are mostly dry ... hardly encouraging ... this intrepid wanderer has persevered with the routes south and west, but desisted with the northern route to Secadero and Tessorrillo, which is a pity, because these respites from the coastal ghettos are required ... never mind, the Land Rover awaits! Off-road tracks await future exploration ... certainly look viable uphill eastwards then round into San Enrique.
Guadiaro is gained in twenty minutes ... across the bridge and a view of orange groves to the left and polo fields to the right ... up to the new town and the brief blessing of an unexpected pavement along the road under the dual carriageway linking the supermarket ... and the gated community of Sotogrande ... brief because it is a concrete cover over the storm drain and they abandon it round the corner and leave the hapless pedestrian in the ditch with a crash barrier to climb ... ohmming gently in order to acquire the invisibility cloak necessary for protection in the hell realms, your writer slips past the barrier along the cruelly ironically named Avenida Pan y Agua, with its lampost mounted sign imploring the citizenry to feed a child each day ... surreality surrounds and entertains for a while ... there is even a pavement as far as the church and shopping centre ... after that it disappears ... almost as if the architects and planners have studied these features and start to draw them, then lose interest when their clients roll their eyes at the naivete ...
Being a work-day, there is some activity from the servants ... it takes a lot of folks to look after the wealthy and their excessive lifestyles ... though strangely no dogs on guard ... perhaps the cameras and patrolling private army are enough ... it is warm and the roads are laid out like most such soullous suburbs, so rather confusing for vagrants ... and this one has no energy for photos ... barely caring to capture even the one at the marina ... and of course, all along the way, not a bench to be seen ... the odd passing jogger ignoring me, thanks either to the invisibility cloak or their noses being so far in the air that they saw only the sky ... finally an escape route ... a portal out of hell, albeit to the hellish time lock that is Torreguadiaro ... the twin towers subtly reminding inner city holidaymakers of home and the real and older Torre hardly meriting comment.
Sanity is restored at Anna's fruit and veg stall between the roundabouts on the road to San Enrique ... a proper Andalusian peasant, helping me learn Spanish and choose some red wine ... on to see Gato and Ruff on the bus ... collecting a copy of the book ... a fresh orange juice and home to take up caretaking responsibilities ... creative juices energised by the meander through hell.
Scary stuff Steve. Brave Steve :-) Very impressed you escaped with your sanity and good spirits intact, or at least restored by Anna, Gato and Ruff.
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