Spain...

...Club Delta Mar in Riviera Del Sol, between Fuengirola and Marbella. Simply the noisiest RCI resort ever stayed in! Coastal lands packing condos for tourists---like us.

Went to Mijas via a 20 minute bus ride because we were told and read of it being a nice Spanish Village. What a joke, we both felt as tho we were in Florida w/ my parents. Tourist trinket shops and English eating joints lined the streets.

Walked along the beach to Playa LaCalahonda which had a small marina again lined w/ tourist restaurants. Had dreamy ideas of sailing!!!

Drinking on the terrace and playin cards and our light burned out. Dial 9 and out comes "maintenance". A nice Spanish man that spoke english, so i asked if there was a place we could go to get away from the touristy areas? He said NO! Inland was his best advice. Logical now thinking of it---Spain has been an English escape for many decades, local true villages can not exist on these coastal waters.

Eating fresh croissants w/ a smear of Nutella, that's delicious!

Sittin and waitin, bus should be comin. There she be and all us folk line up like sheep, except one bloke in blue. Pockets and purses are his focus. Myself not payin any mind, just shuffling along like a good sheep should do, but once on the bus..."Ya, he would have taken that guys wallet if I wouldn't have said HEY!", this big ole female bloke rambles on to her other big ole female partner. "We ought to do something!". "Come on now just sit down.", "Look at him out there!", she yells. Her ruckus draws attention and eyes, including mine. I rise up and pinpoint a curly haired 60 plus year old man blending in amongst the flock. Beady little eyes to go along w/ his tiny regard of others. Engaged in amazement, as he one by one weaves in and out, seeking an open hole of the careless traveler. "Look at him...the guy in blue!", she yells to the bus driver. "He is a pick-pocketer." Her excitement opens my adrenaline valve, as i still gaze on. Bus continues to load and his line of opportunity shrinks to nothing.

Much like the buses diesel smoke, our bloke in blue dissipates. "Where'd he disappear? In a corner don'tcha know, countin his take!", she blows on. Interesting how once my eyes synced up to the situation how much i wanted to jump into the mix, like Wolves to a Caribou or was it like white cops beating the life out of a black man? Ither way it's an irrational reactionary, border line survival instinct response.

Sidelines vs. center ring?!?!?!