30 March 2016
Women can not survive on museums, churches, and city architecture alone. Thus, we drive the short distance to the Costa Brava and the small picturesque beach town of Tossa de Mar. It is a beautiful drive through low mountain passes, curving and winding down to an alluvial plain and the Mediterranean.
Tossa de Mar was my destination in the summer of 1972. I remember it’s old fortress ruins above the beach, the small town and cafes and British bars. And I remember the 20 people per square yard on the beach. I remember walking over to a kiosk for something to drink, turning around to return to my beach towel, and being confronted by masses of hairy bodies and no clear path nor idea where my spot was. This was pre-GPS days, not that it would have helped. Somehow I got my directions, after all the azure ocean was in front, the town in back, and by Devine guidance found my towel. (more…)