Becoming European

So it is official...I have embarked on my journey to becoming a European successfully. My first experience joining the throngs of topless women on the beach in Spain was a somewhat drawn out process. Due to the fact that in my head I had prepared myself for this very moment, I was surprised at my complete reluctance when it actually came to doing the deed. Sitting on my towel, bikini top in place, I spent a good half hour discussing with Ben the pro's and con's of removing the latter. Being the modest Kiwi girl I am, and having been brought up in a rather strict Christian family, baring any part of one's body in public seemed quite, shall we say, 'naughty'. I felt that God might, at any moment, strike me down for even considering to do so, but Ben's lack of concern for the matter was my deciding factor...that and the fact that looking around, I couldn't see how it actually was naughty. It wasn't a sexual thing, (how could it be when a good many older European women, sags and all were among the throng of topless), and thinking to myself I realised that many cultures bear breasts in public after all. The moment I first removed my bikini top I have to admit was one of my most vulnerable...I still couldn't shake the Kiwi modesty...and I couldn't lie down on my towel quick enough, as though being on my back, breasts exposed to the public would be less conspicuous. But after refusing to look up for about 10 minutes in hopes that no one would notice me, I relaxed, and have to say, I am now a full advocate for the tradition, (Not that I plan on introducing it to New Zealand...:-)). I have to admit, I can see the benefits, firstly there are no hideous tan lines, (well except for me due to the fact that I have never exposed that part of myself to the sun...spot the newbie on the beach), the ties at the back on your top don't make it uncomfortable when you are lying on your back tanning, and you don't have to constantly re-adjust everything to make sure it's in place. What more could a woman want? Ben finds it quite amusing that now I am flitting myself about without a worry...well...as they say...'When in Rome...'

Driving from France we did not encounter any boarder control, and due to our deportation from Columbia, Ben and I were just slightly worried that either, we actually were not in Spain and Bonnie had directed us wrong, (One would think the fact people were speaking Spanish and everything was written in Spanish would have been enough of a hint), or that we had driven the wrong way...maybe a route for locals only since we were too stingy to take the toll road, and had missed the actual boarder. After clarifying that you do not actually need a stamp in your passport to be in Spain, we settled into life amongst the Spaniards. Ben's first few comments were along the lines of “I miss France,” and, “Spain is not as cool”, till we went for a walk along the San Sebastian Peninsula to find one of the most beautiful beaches and towns we have ever seen. It is fun and lively and hot! They even have an old fashioned fair which runs each night. And the Spanish know how to do fireworks. It was like they had stocked up 10 years worth and had decided to see how many they could let off in one go. Not that we were complaining...and they have put on a 20 minute display every night since we have been here. I have decided that humans are like moths...put on some pretty lights and we will come fluttering! But we have come to the conclusion that we LOVE Spain.

This morning, after something wet having spilt in our van making just a little smelly, we decided to park up, unload everything, dry and air it out. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to us, we had decided to do this on private land, and were constantly having fingers shaken at us, and being told in Spanish and French that we could not be there for a picnic...but to air out our car was allowed? I think they just couldn't be bothered waiting around for us to reload everything and leave. At one point, during our air out, Ben had taken the last of the toilet paper and headed into the bushes for some private time. After a 'small' amount of time I hear much rustling and what I think is a scared voice yelling for help. Poor man had ended up with the runs and two squares of paper to mop up the mess. How he escaped the situation unscathed, came down to a bit of Kiwi ingenuity, bushman-ship, (his several years in scouts), and some very handy 'handy towels'. Needless to say the supermarket was our next stop.

All in all, we are looking decidedly tanned/burnt, full of paella and ice-cream, and bewildered by the lights and sights, loving life as a Spaniard.