Summer in disuse: the beach
We do a nostalgic review of our old vacation habits. First delivery: those agostos on the beach. The Rubio math booklets, Santillana's books, the tulip sandwiches and the pitcher of Tang and a long list of things we miss. Or not?
June half. At this point when I was a child I was already clear where I was going to spend the summer (as a conjugable verb). It was also clear in April and January and October of the previous year, because the holidays, unless a meteor hit the earth, for my friends and for me they were always in the same place: in the village". So, in generic.
Here there were two options, that the town in question was a town, without more, or that you were lucky and “your” town, besides town, had a beach. Of course these were the favorite towns of all the girls in my class, who went directly, without any added merit, to swell the list of class A celebrities of the course.
It goes without saying to the town one was traveling by car: windows down, plastic bags in the glove compartment, a (as numeral) toy for each brother and the lunch box (the tupper came later) of metal. There was a rumor that there were some strips that hung somewhere and that for some strange reason, with the brush with the road they prevented you from getting dizzy, but in my family it was never experienced.
I was on list A. Come on, I was going to the beach. And when I say I was going to the beach, I was going to the beach, because during the whole month we were there (of course in august), nothing else was done. Morning and afternoon. Day after day. Hence, we still have such vivid memories a series of beach dressings that accompanied us, memories that debate me between nostalgia and blushing.
Without a doubt, My favorite beach gadget was the little box-purse with rope with which mothers could bathe at ease without worrying about watching the towel. There were two versions, the cylindrical and the rectangular. The first one had a lot of charm, because you were clinking like a cow, and it was perfect to carry the pesetas and the hard ones (then the 500 coins didn't fit so well). The bad thing was when you loaded too much that left your neck torn apart. The second one was designed with a much more specific target: modern smokers (which was almost redundant, because if you were a modern smoker), you didn't have to give up your cigarette while splashing because the entire bison package fit. If you also had palm trees, coconut trees or the legend of memory somewhere cool (Torremolinos, Estepona, Pollença ...) you were a trend setter, when the trend setters were still not called that.
Another fantastic gadget was the mini fan. I don't know very well why, but they always used to be yellow and one always had to carry spare batteries because they were ventilated (very well brought) in the middle of the morning. It was actually a bit like being cold and scratching your belly, because the storm was almost priceless, but with it you were the coolest. The “seats” for mobile phones are more useless today and nobody says anything. Those that if they had a good use were the folding glasses, those that, by magic, were stored in a round box and then stretched.
Villages with sea © Corbis
The marbellí boom was noticed in all the beaches. Even in that of my town, which was not precisely close. Especially in the obsession of the ladies to carbonize in the sun and also wear white swimsuits and bikinis so that it still stands out more. Of course, then the most was carrot cream, that once you threw it away or even if you wore a suit made with the most potent asbestos alienation you could avoid third-degree burns and Julio Sabala skin color.
Special worship inspired me those cachivaches as a suit of Demi Russians with to change you in “discreet” plan, with those who rode a printing circus, in addition to the ladies' suction caps (my mother had several) so as not to get her hair wet (this was another thing I didn't understand either because not even 1 percent of the ladies stuck their heads to swim). Useless, yes, but they were hilarious because from afar you could confuse them with the great coral reef with all its reliefs and marine flora. Afternoons, already changed and showered (and with the aftersun, read how it sounds), it was time to go for a drink on some terrace of the walk. Horchata, juice or slush. But what horchata, what juice and what a slush! Served with origami straws of apples, pineapples or peacocks and adorned with Chinese umbrellas that, of course, you took home and then served as a parasol for your dolls.
As for souvenirs. three marked my summers on fire: one were incomprehensible plastic keychains of a Hawaiian gorilla with a skirt, to which you squeezed the gut and we all know what was happening (in my town, for some strange reason they called "colitero"), the other were coconuts with a face and wire glasses that had grass in their hair, and the third, figures made with shells. Here there was a wide imaginary: they could be cats with mustaches, a horse carriage or a Russian dancer. Of course: all with shells. Then there were the postcards of young ladies in smaller cloths, typical of Ibiza and the like, and later one that was repeated in any Spanish beach and that was all black and put: "such a city ... at night". A spree, come on.
The blond math booklets, Santillana's books, the tulip sandwiches and the pitcher of Tang... that was the summers in my town. Sorry. On my beach To be clear. Because I was class A.