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|Three Delicious (standard:travel stories, 1449 words)|
|Author: E J Woodall||Added: Jan 16 2003||Views/Reads: 2456/1341||Story 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. Tweet
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