Holiday From Hell (Part 3)

I had always been fine with Spanish food, I quite enjoyed it. I do not know whether it was something I had eaten in the hotel or a snack I had purchased outside. I only know the affect it had on my stomach and I am not going to go into too much detail here. Anyone who has suffered from Montezuma’s revenge or Delhi Belly - whatever you choose to call it, will get a mental picture.

I only know that I awoke in the night with crippling stomach pain, vomiting and running to the toilet every few minutes. I spent most of the night awake. The next morning I was hardly any better. An excursion had been booked for that day but there was no way I was going to be able to go. Did the red-headed league have any pity? No. Off they went leaving me to it. I could not keep anything down, even sips of water came back. I got weaker and weaker. Thankfully, the sitting on the toilet became unnecessary. There was nothing left. However, the vomiting continued. I found it harder and harder to make that step up into the bathroom so in the end, anything that came back was deposited on the stone floor. I needed help. I rang down to reception. Luckily the manager’s wife was on duty and she spoke good English. She only had to hear my voice to know that something was wrong. She was in the room in no time, she cleaned up and was so kind to me. I had assumed she would send for a doctor but no, she disappeared for a short while and came back with something in a glass. It tasted like wallpaper paste and, if I remember rightly after all this time, I think she did say it was a mixture of flour and water. Anyway, it did the trick. She stayed and chatted for a while, left me some more mixture and I feel asleep. It was another full night and day before I fully recovered. I hardly saw the red-headed league, they carried on as though I was nothing to do with them.

On the afternoon of the second day of my stomach trouble, I was dozing on the bed when I was awoken by the loudest bang I have ever heard. Thunder. Not just any thunder but a storm such as I had never witnessed before. I have hated storms since my childhood for good reason. But this was not like an English storm. The sky was continually illuminated by lightning, the rain teeming so hard you could not see out of the window, the buildingseemed to rock with each new peal as the crescendo increased. I had never witnessed a tropical storm. I suppose if you like storms, it was the most spectacular display. I huddled under my sheets, trying to block my ears and keeping my eyes shut. I wanted then to be home, this was turning into the holiday from hell, I wished I had never come. I wanted my family.

For two days and two nights the storms continued. The roads flooded, the shops flooded. Water seeped into the hotel but this time it was nothing to do with me. We were marooned. Our beautiful outside dining area had turned into a lake which only reflected more of the lightning. Meals were taken inside and most of us spent the time in a community room as sleep was pretty nigh impossible. Tempers started to fray. This was our precious holiday time being wasted. The staff were wonderful, they entertained us with songs and little sketches. The Brits started a sing-a-long. We made the best of it, what else could we do. Because I had been so unwell, the staff made an extra fuss of me, constantly asking me if I was alright and if I needed anything. This infuriated GD’s Mum who accused me of putting it all on to get attention. I think it was the reaction of the men that did it. She and GD were not treated the same. Well, can you wonder when they never cracked their faces. I think she even blamed me for the bad weather.

The storms finally dwindled away, the sun came out. Shopkeepers were able to brush the mud and slime from their premises, water damaged cars were towed away. The sun shone brightly Everything seemed peaceful again. Then ………………they came. At first there were just a couple but then more and more joined them, hundreds then thousands. Frogs! It was like a Biblical plague. Our hotel had hills behind it and the torrential rains must have washed them down. Now, one frog croaking at a distance is bearable. But thousands of Bullfrogs (we assumed that was what they were) all chorusing together is quite another matter. It was unbearable. For two nights we had not slept because of the noise of the thunder and the fact it seemed like perpetual daylight with the lightning. Now we could not sleep because of the damned frogs.

The hotel manager was at his wits end. He did the only thing he could think of. He sent his staff outside with as many buckets as they could lay their hands on to collect the frogs and transport them elsewhere,quite where he intended to put them we did not know. We gathered to watch. It was hilarious. They did their best, frantically grabbing as many hopping creatures as they could and dropping them into the containers but as the pails filled up, all the frogs nearer the surface only hopped out again. It was like watching an old silent movie. The chases became more and more frantic. The waiters running as fast as their legs could carry them, leaping frogs in mid-air. Other staff running off into the distance with a bucket in each hand and amphibians leaping out all the way. Of course, after a time the novelty of watching wore off. That night, to give the staff their due, the noise was somewhat less but only somewhat. Then, as suddenly as they arrived the creatures were gone. They probably found their way back to their own habitat or were driven back by the fact that it was now hot and sunny again.

All returned to normality The shops re-opened, the sun blazed. We could continue with our holiday and they  continued with their moaning . We took a sea trip to another resort, they said they loved the ocean, they loved boats -  they all got sea-sick! We climbed up a steep hill to a castle to see the view from there. They moaned it was just a pile of old bricks, their knees hurts, their feet hurt. One evening we went to watch Flamenco. They complained that the noise of the stamping feet gave them headaches.

On our last night there was an excursion to a place further down the coast that had a wonderful night spot, dancing entertainment, glamour. There were many different nationalities, Germans, Norwegians, French etc. etc. I had made sure I looked as nice as I possibly could. All evening I never sat down. Had it been in the old days, you could have said my dance-card was full. One young man after another wanted to dance with me. Nobody asked the ice maiden. GD and her family sat in a row of seats against a wall. I could feel the arrows and daggers of their glances in my back. I had such a wonderful time and they hated me for it. I was accused of being easy. Easy? All I had done was dance. On the coach back to the hotel they did not speak to me and I did not speak to them. Thank God we were flying home the next day. But this holiday from hell was not quite over yet.

Next time ..........my meeting with a Celebrity and the journey home.

Now I have a favour to ask.  We have a new journaller amongst us.  Please go and give her your usual lovely welcome.

She can be found at

Flossy's World