At nine o’ clock this morning, as I jogged down the promenade, I spotted a man doing yoga on the beach. He seemed to have gone beyond the Saludo al sol (and the sun was up and bright ready to greet him back) and had progressed to a little meditation. Either that or he was into a cult of adoration of La Madama de Silgar, the statue out on the bay.
On my way back I had to duck and weave around enormous numbers of old ladies and gents who had been disgorged from a bus on the corner of the street just below our hotel. Pensioners outings to Sanxenxo, obviously!
A more usual sight than the yoga man is that of the ladies on their way to the beach, this one captured later in the morning. The style of the big yellow coverall is very common among ladies of a certain age and size, even though it looks a little as though they have come out in their nightdresses. But it’s a very sensible way of covering your swimsuit and possibly more dignified than the short version favoured by her companion.
We saw the same yellow coverall and striped sunhat make their way into the dining room at the hotel at lunchtime. Tables full of elderly ladies and gents tucking in and, being Spanish, talking nineteen to the dozen. Somebody once told me that the English often consider the Spanish rude as they always seem to interrupt you. It was then explained that we English have the habit of stopping at the end of one statement and taking a breath before starting the next, pausing just slightly but sufficiently long to make a Spaniard think you’ve finished. They then leap in with the next thing they want to say as soon as possible before someone else does so. If this is the case then our friend Colin’s mate Mike could possibly be a Spaniard as both Colin and I had difficulty getting our comments in last time we met for lunch.
On the subject of lunch, it has to be said that the food here at the Hotel Carlos I Silgar in Sanxenxo is very good, quite imaginative, very nicely presented and, above all, served in copious amounts. For lunch today we started with “crepes de mariscos”, shellfish nicely parcelled up in a pancake: very tasty. We went on to “chipirrones”, baby squid prettily arranged around the ubiquitous Galician potatoes: also very tasty. There was a third course: “churrascos”. We cause some concern to the restaurant staff here as we never want three courses. After the first two today there was no way that ribs, cauliflower and a mountain of chips were making their way into my stomach. I wasn’t struck on the desert either, another custard/cream/patisserie affair, so we had yoghurt instead. Don’t get me wrong; I am not criticising the service; I think it’s excellent just a little too much for my taste. If you stay here with full board and really do justice to the meals they offer, you must leave several stones heavier at the end of a week. Maybe it’s to encourage people to stay on a bit longer and have “treatment” in the spa, working off the extra kilos.
In the lift I saw this notice for one of the “tratamientos” available. For a mere €52 you can have an apple hydromassage, a facial with apple stem cells (I believe that’s what “células madre” are) a fancy, revitalising foot massage and various other things. Now, I know that an apple a day is supposed to keep the doctor away but, really, this is a bit over the top. Does the facial consist of them covering your face with apple purée or what? €52 is a bit too much for me to spend to find out. I guess I’ll just stick to my morning jog down the prom and regular dips in the pool.
Today I swam this morning, around midday in fact but before the sun was at its highest, instead of later in the day. This does not exclude my going back for more at about seven o’clock, however. At the moment it is so hot out there that you would have to be in the pool to feel comfortable at all. Inside the hotel, though, we have the air conditioning on so it’s not a problem. Oh, yes, I do know it’s not good environmentally but, boy, does it feel good?!
Anyway, the pool at the end of the morning was much better than at around five in the afternoon. Quite simply, there are fewer little boys leaping into the air, hugging their knees to their chest and shouting “¡¡¡BOMBA!!!!” as they splash bottom first into the water. I have nothing against children in the pool so long as they don’t disturb my gentle plod up and down.
This morning it was me and about five other sensible adults: perfection!