Today we went to Heaven.
OK, we went out to eat again. Only this time, the place we ate was called Heaven. It's easy to see where it gets its name ... it's on the beach, the food is good, the servers act like they have a job in, well, heaven. What's not to like?
We actually started off to go somewhere else, but either we're stupid (always a possibility) or the signs on Spanish roads and freeways aren't the clearest. Whatever ... Heaven is so close to where we are staying we could walk there in fifteen minutes, yet instead we drove up and down the coast, even having to pay a toll at one point, just so that close to an hour later we saw a sign that said "Heaven" and figured it must be fate.
I actually ate a hamburger. I told the waiter that we were from the U.S. and that I was intrigued by the idea of eating a hamburger in Spain, but that I was also fearful it would be ... well, I don't know what I was afraid of. He assured me it was homemade ... better than McDonald's, he said when I asked jokingly.
Here's the thing about Spanish restaurants, at least the ones I've been to over the years. You order a plain hamburger, and it comes with bacon on top. There would seem to be no avoiding pork in these parts.
Here's another thing about Spanish restaurants ... Robin ordered a salad that was described on the menu as featuring cucumbers, red onions, tomatoes, and black olives. The salad that arrived had cucumbers, red onions, tomatoes, and green olives. There would seem to be no avoiding green olives in these parts.
There was a German family eating next to us, and a couple of them also ordered hamburgers. The young surfer-dude-looking guy chowed down, but the older dad-looking guy left the burger open-faced, with the burger/cheese/bacon on one side of his plate, the tomato/onion part on the other side of the plate. And he proceeded to eat the damn thing ... with a fork and knife.
Meanwhile, I suppose I should say a little more about the Albero Lodge, where we are staying. It truly is lovely ... I'm typing this in a large garden-like space, because it's closer to the not-very-strong wi-fi box, but each room also has their own patio outside their room in the garden. Since we're in the Madras Room with the India motif, we've got a giant Buddha on our wall, and another on our patio. On the negative side, while the place is advertised as being a short walk to the beach, the walk is a bit more than short, and is via a dingy, unlit alley. In other words, we have to drive everywhere we go. (We rented a teensy Nissan Micra, which has a lot of legroom up front, enough room in the back for our bags, a CD player, and A/C.)
Tonight a massage therapist is coming to our room to give Robin a 90-minute massage. I suppose I'll have to find something to do while she's "busy."