On many roads in Spain, as you approach a roundabout, you will see one or two girls there, dressed in hot pants, clutching a mobile phone and carrying a bottle of water. These girls are not hitch hikers - there’s not a backpack in sight. They're prostitutes, and a lot of them are from Eastern Europe, although if you drive around enough roundabouts, you'll see all nationalities.
When we first came to Spain, friends of ours came from the UK in their motor home to help us move into our apartment. We arranged to meet them at their campsite, but we couldn’t find it. After several failed attempts, Glenys offered to walk up to a roundabout we all knew to meet us.
As we were newly arrived in Spain, we weren’t then aware of the ‘roundabout girls.’ When we collected Glenys in our car she said, ‘The people around here are ever so friendly. Lots of men have stopped while I've been waiting for you. I suppose they wanted to offer me a lift, but I told them I was waiting for someone.’
She was horrified when she discovered just why the ‘friendly men’ had stopped. Her husband, John, was devastated - he thought she'd missed a great opportunity to earn some extra holiday cash!
That isn't my only experience with a roundabout, and it took a while before I could laugh about this one as readily as I'd laughed at Glenys. When I was President of our community, I had to engage an electrician, who didn't know where to find us. I said I'd meet him at the roundabout by La Finca's commercial centre. As soon as I put the phone down, Tony said, 'You do realise you've just agreed to meet a man at a roundabout, don't you?'
To be honest, I hadn't even given it a thought. I was nearly 60 at the time, and although I'm pretty well preserved, I can't imagine anybody wanting to pay for what I have to offer. Besides, it's a tiny roundabout with not much passing traffic. If I left it until the last minute, I'd be just fine.
Of course, things never go to plan, and as I was walking to the rendezvous point, Jose - the electrician - called to say he'd been delayed by 15 minutes. I should have turned around right then, but I thought I could sit on the wall at the roundabout and wait.
I'd been sat there about 10 minutes when the local police went past on one of their regular patrols. When they saw me sitting on the wall and looking in the direction of Quesada, they wanted to know what was happening. Understandably, they weren't very impressed when I said I was waiting for a man.
I know I shouldn't have said that, but at the time, my Spanish wasn't up to explaining the full picture. Just when it looked as if I'd be spending the night in a cell, Jose arrived and addressed me by name, so the police turned their attention to him. He explained everything, and we went on our way, after the three of them had enjoyed a good laugh at my expense.
Later - much later - I also found the experience funny, and I felt quite flattered that the police might have thought I was a serious contender for horizontal earning potential, but at the time, it was a bit scary. I could just see the headline in the Coastrider: 'Community President arrested for prostitution on prestigious golf urbanisation.' Now I just have to find a suitable image for this post from somewhere.
