The ol’ swimming hole.

Spain has a fabulous repertoire of holidays.  Some are national, some are local, many are thanks to the Virgin Mary.   Monday in Algeciras was “Día De La Resaca” (Day of the Hang-Over).  Seriously.  I couldn’t make this stuff up.

So while the rest of Algeciras took aspirin and had indigestion, we headed inland to the Valley of Genal for a long weekend get-a-way.

Along the Río Genal we found our new favorite swimming hole.  Or more accurately, my favorite.  Rogelio feels that submerging ones body in water less than 30 degrees is for heathens and Canadians.

Besides, his grandmother always said that swimming in fresh water was unhealthy.  She also said eating fruit after lunch time was unhealthy.  Not sure where she stood on hang-overs.

We had to cross the river twice to get there,

“Careful there, Mommy.  Jumping the falls before my nap sounds like a bad idea.”

but it was only a quick jaunt from the road.

Isn’t that the prettiest little swimming hole?  Kid friendly beach, crystal water and even the obligatory waterfall.  The Dehlia shedding petals into the water is almost cheesy it is so perfect.

I plunged right in.  This hormone laced, breast-feeding body gets good and sweaty in the Spanish heat.

The boys were more hesitant.

Aren’t you going to swim, Papi?

“Hell no, son.  I can hardly stand the Mediterranean in August.  If you want to learn about cold water, hockey sticks or back bacon you are going to have to swim out there and ask your Mother.”

“I’m going to sit here with all my clothes on.  Don’t want to catch a chill.  But any questions about wine, fatty pork products or how to negotiate a traffic circle and I am your man.”


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