Today we are heading to the beach; to Playa Hermosa. It’s only a 20 mile drive, so there’s time for a leisurely breakfast (apart from the bit where we have to fight tooth and nail for a go on the toaster). Then I go for a swim whilst the old man crushes his candy (not a euphemism – he really does spend several hours a day playing candy crush).
As the temperature hits 32 degrees, it’s time to check out and head for the Pacific coast. It should only be a 45 minute drive, but with the old man’s faffing (he left his hat in a restaurant and insists on going back, then gets lost in Liberia’s one way system) and my faffing (stops to photograph warning signs and a giant lizard) it takes twice as long.
As it’s the weekend, accommodation was in short supply and the old man has been forced to splash out. Our hotel (El Valero) is therefore less budget than we are used to and boasts a pool and a private beach. Of all the hotels we’ve stayed in so far, it’s the most expensive and, it turns out, my least favourite. The pool is tiny and there isn’t really a private beach. It’s heaving and there’s an abundance of yappy little lapdogs.
We’re too early to check in, so head instead to the restaurant, which spreads from the hotel, out onto the beach, and order lunch (and there may also have been beer).
We wait and wait for lunch to be served. Ironically, I have ordered from the ‘fast food’ menu. After a full hour of staring out to sea while the old man plays candy crush, my sandwich finally arrives.
Sandwich devoured, we can finally check in and take a walk along the beach. It consists of a dark brown material, somewhere between mud and sand – reminiscent of Weston-Super-Mare. My hotel floor says it’s mud. It seems to get everywhere and I end up putting a towel on the floor by the bed so I can wipe my feet before climbing in, a bit like an Olympic shot putter.
Once we have cooled down (and cleaned up) after our walk, we venture out one more time to watch the sunset before retiring for the night.