The electricity must have come back on overnight because there it was in the morning. We finally got to wash the salt and sand out of our hair and felt much better for it. But during breakfast (when we offended our hosts by declining their offer of omelettes) the power went off again. Obviously this scuppered our plans to check our emails in Trinidad so we headed for the beach.
Our hostess had rung a taxi company and had been quoted 3CUC each way to Playa Ancon, whereas we had been charged 8 each way the day before. Armed with this information we managed to reduce the price to 6CUC. Peeved, the taxi driver switched on the meter, which showed 5.90 when we arrived at Playa Ancon. Spot on.
Breaking our trend of going to the beach on windy, cloudy days, Saturday was exceptionally hot with clear blue skies in all directions. The beach felt properly Caribbean, with us hiding from the sun under one of those umbrella-shaped shelters made from palm fronds. It was like a postcard. I think it's probably the first time I've been to the beach and not felt the slightest bit cold all day. We wore factor 45 suncream but still came home with a colour. The sea was perfect, so refreshing I could have stayed in there all day.
When we arrived we went and checked our e-mails in the Ancon hotel. I was chuffed to find several, lovely e-mails which put me in a good mood straight away.
After replying to e-mails we lazed on the beach for the morning, booking ourselves in for snorkelling at 1pm on the nearby coral reef. We swam about once an hour to cool ourselves down, nipping into the Ancon now and then to use their toilets. I was rather upset, however, to be effectively refused entrance after returning my lunch plate to a nearby cafe. As I approached the hotel I could see the security guard cutting across towards me, so I strolled confidently towards the shop (which they're more than happy for non-residents to use, naturally).
A strange floor in the hotel
I hoped to lurk in there for a while, then make a break for the toilets, but the shop was closed, and as I walked away (hoping at least to go out the exit near the toilets) the security guard got an English-speaking member of staff to ask me what I was doing. I said I was just hoping to have a look in the shop but that it was closed. He said I should come back in 15 minutes when the attendants had finished their lunch, so I said okay and started to walk towards my favoured exit, but they wouldn't let me go that way! I had to leave by the closest exit, and I was watched all the way. How very rude. You'd think I was a common crook stuffing spoons into my pockets. Not even allowed to surreptitiously use the toilets! You'd think they'd turn a blind eye. It's not as though I was going to poo all over the floor, and I'd even brought my own toilet roll! Fascists.
Which reminds me (this is jumping ahead), we passed a sign on the way to Vinales saying something like NO POR FASCISMO, and in the 'o' was a picture of Bush with a Hitler moustache. The German guy next to me thought it was hilarious and started making odd sounds at me with his finger over his lip. Err, yes. Bloody German sense of humour!
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