The next morning I wake up very wobbly – my eyes feel like they are spinning around like a cartoon character’s. Though we didn’t drink that much, it appears I am not the only one (something in the food here?), so after our breakfast we return to being horizontal and sleep till 12.00. We’ve told Edgar we won’t need him till about 4.00 for the beach, so we toddle around Trinidad for a few hours. It’s mother’s day, so a few public places are closed, but fortunately the highly recommended Don Pepe’s is open for a delicious iced coffee a la Turquesa: coffee with ice, cream and ice cream. More of the latter than coffee, but absolutely perfect for this temperature.
We decide to check out the “other” beach; La Boca. When we arrive, it’s a small and slightly squalid version of Ancon, right at the estuary of the river, and the water looks peat-brown and uninviting. This is where the Cubanos come and rent casas for a month or so for their family holidays, which explains the lack of glitz. We carry on towards Ancon, and find a little beach with a small palm-leaf-roofed restaurant and beach umbrellas. The beach is beautiful, the water’s edge turns into polished coral rock, slightly uneven under foot, so it’s recommended to wear shoes for negotiating the uneven surface. The water is beautifully blue, and relatively clear, so even without mask I can see the occasional fronds of coral and the small, colourful fish which come to investigate the gargantuan white creature that has invaded their world.
It’s mother’s day, as I said, and the restaurant and beach are full of local families enjoying the fiesta. A couple of young girls try their hand at catching little fish in yoghurt containers – by the look on their faces they don’t have much luck.
Before the blood suckers descend, we decamp to a sea food restaurant that Edgar has recommended – makes a good paella, he says. We wend our way through unpaved dirt streets, through the poorer quartier, and end up in Los Marescos, which proves to be a good find. They offer a mother’s day special, and before too long local families start drifting in. The paella is good, though strangely it arrives before our entree of shrimp cocktail.. The combination is huge, and W manfully munches his way through as much as he can, and yet again, we waddle out of the restaurant having eaten too much. In fact we just waddle back to bed, being still a bit zombie-like, so we forgo the pleasures of music wine and dance for bed… Goodness, you know you’re getting old when….