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Three Delicious (standard:travel stories, 1449 words)
Author: E J WoodallAdded: Jan 16 2003Views/Reads: 2456/1341Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A little story about three friends who go to Spain and ride bikes.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

little head of hers. She knew what she wanted that girl, and I loved 
her for it. She opted for a glass of water instead. 

Marinda had come out of her slumber and stretched loudly, arching her
back, like a cat does after it has one of it's many naps. ‘Oh, let's 
have a post sleep cigarette Lou, dunno where mine are.' ‘I've got them 
Marinda, you just gave then to me.' I gave her cigarettes back to her. 
Marinda was a generous soul and had her head screwed on right. She 
never missed a thing. I always thought she could survive on cigarettes, 
diet coke and an hour's sleep; she was always so switched on. So we 
drank our coffee and smoked our cigarettes, then we sat on the terrace 
in the dying sun. The air was still. It didn't last long though, and 
the chill soon began to kick in because it was mid winter. It was 
snowing back home; we had seen the weather forecast on the television 
in this funny little English bar. 

Mostly we drank vino and looked upon the beautiful Spanish landscape
that was all around us, our eyes absorbing the stark contrasts. Far 
away, there were the mud coloured mountains with the sharp peaks 
skimming the white, puffy cotton coloured clouds, then if you glanced 
towards the left, you would see the clean lines of the flat, very 
European motorway, running all the way to the sparkling cities of 
Spain. Look again to your right, and you would have seen a row of 
Spanish tapas bars, and perhaps the odd English bar, awkwardly situated 
between them. 

One time, Bamboo and I ate a cheese and ham toastie in one of those
English bars. It was strange, as if we were back home, but it felt 
distinctly out of place. Framed posters of Jack Daniels had been 
hammered onto the shabby walls; pictures of English landscapes were 
there to remind us of home. We could order chips if we wanted to. But 
what we loved most was eating various tapas dishes, served with crusty 
bread, sitting outside a local café on the beach. It was deserted of 
course, and all the locals were wrapped up in big coats and scarves. 
They were selling woolly gloves on the markets. But we were not 
perturbed by the ‘cold' weather, we thought the weather was delightful, 
and we would frequently lie on the grainy sand with our backs to the 
walls and our faces looking up to the sun. Everyone though we were 
crazy, because it was winter time, but if the Spaniards were to go to 
England, then I'm pretty sure they would understand that to us, it felt 
like summer all over again. One day, we hired bikes, and went peddling 
down the flat promenade. There were hardly any people to obstruct us, 
so we just rode and rode, and stopped to look around and laugh at 
ourselves, and what fun we were having in Spain. We'd forgotten about 
all about college, we had forgotten about our family and friends back 
home, we had forgotten about our responsibilities back home. We were 
just three friends enjoying ourselves and we felt great. 


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