Epic fail...

I guess it’s a good thing to have an epic fail the first day of a vacation…gives one an opportunity to get the inevitable out of the way; then proceed while secretly hoping there won’t be another to top the one you’re currently sharing with the world in a blog post. Here it is in any case: In the small town of Nerja, Spain, there is a popular tourist area known as the Balcon… a centrally located cliff outcropping that overlooks the Mediterranean Sea favored by tourists for its beautiful vistas of the sea, beaches and rock formations below. There is a swank hotel there and many little shops and sidewalk cafes arranged around tourist-friendly walk streets… “walk streets” being the key words. Who knew?? Not us – that wasn’t in the guide book! Jack, in his technological wisdom purchased a European GPS (for which I’m mostly thankful) so we wouldn’t get lost when we impulsively decide to search out xyz. This day the GPS led us directly to our destination, the Balcon, without the cyber knowledge that the streets leading up to it were, in fact, walk streets. A quick turn here, then left and suddenly we’re driving on a sidewalk-like narrow road… welcome to walk streets, as in NO CARS ALLOWED!!! Signs? Maybe, but in Spanish, we wouldn’t have noticed. Once you’re on a walk street, there is no turning around, you are committed… suffering under the scowls of pedestrians who curse you under their breath as they move off the street they know that you are not supposed to be driving on. At this point, we are completely aware that we have totally screwed up… Jack is sweating and swearing and I’m slouched way down in the passenger seat as we move ahead praying for a way out… now we are in the heart of the plaza where no cars are allowed EVER… we are a shocking display of wrongness and bad tourist form… nothing to do but keep moving… suddenly the road ends at cement pillars evenly spaced across the road to prevent passage… as in no egress and no ingress. Well, actually the egress is possibly, maybe, yes!! thankfully just wide enough to allow our little Spanish rental car to squeeze through… we hold our breath and are soon free of walk-street hell. Jack drives a little faster now on the regular streets, eager (as I am) to leave this episode behind us, so grateful that the only casualty has been our (now questionably savvy) tourist egos. Please pass the sangria, mi amigos.