SATURDAY 11.9.02 - DAY8

DAY 8 - To El Saler

Thawaaak!!! went the club...Zzzziiiinnnngggg… went the ball climbing high into the crisp Mediterranean morning air. It makes a perfect arch, lands softly, and rolls another 50 feet in the center of the immaculate fairway and comes to a stop. I pick up my tee and follow my fellow golfers down the fairway for my lay up shot before chipping onto the green for a 1 putt par.... Then...

Wait.... not yet.... we haven’t gotten there yet so sit back and relax.... El Saler is yet to come

…And the beat goes on. … and so do the Pirulas. The road from Murcia to Valencia was challenging as well as beautiful. Some really great mountains and spectacular scenery, but finding the turnoff to El Saler ala “MapBlast” directions was something else. A couple of pirulas and we spotted a tiny sign pointing towards El Saler. I had forgotten that the golf club we were headed for was in the middle of a national park named Al Abuffera. It is actually an isthmus that runs south of Valencia and separates the Mediterranean from a naturally evolved lake. I thought the golf club was just immediately South of El Saler… Ooppss… it was a lot farther south than I had expected. The road from the Autopista [which is a junior highway compared to the AUTOVIA] was a real narrow country road similar to the 17 mile stretch from Florida City to Key Largo, and ran right up along the lake side much as US1 boarders the Gulf of Mexico heading South.

As we approached a small auto circle, we naturally zipped around following the sign TO EL SALERà. While blowing through this little village we had expected to find the customary directional to the Parador as we had in the past, but we were on the other side of El Saler on the way to Valencia with still no sign of the Parador.

“Uh-oh…” Chuckie mumbles, “Boy am I stupid. I know the place is South of El Saler and here I am heading north!”

A pirula was immediately executed and we headed back to the traffic circle South of El Saler. As we rounded the circle we spotted a tiny sign marked PT [Parador Turisimo] in the symbol for a Parador pointing to the right [and here I was commending them of their signage in Toledo] We headed in the direction it indicated and started traveling through the park. And we traveled…and traveled…and traveled… after passing two fishing camps, and an RV camp I was just about to perform another pirula thinking we had gone too far when the Parador signage loomed ahead.

Pulling into the driveway we were stopped by a guard, which seemed odd but then I remembered this is a semi-private club, he confirmed our reservation and waved us through the gate. The drive wound up past the first fairway and we parked in front of the Parador’s entrance. Check in as usual was smooth and we were escorted to our room with a lovely balcony view [of the parking lot] and beyond that what we later found to be the Fabled First Fairway.
After a quick unpack and freshening up we decided to run down to the pro shop to see if we can get a Tee-time for tomorrow and see about rental clubs. We arrived just at closing time and we were directed to see the caddy master. He explained that the first Tee-time available would be after 3:30pm. Since we had wanted to be on the road long before that I passed on the chance to play on this magnificent course [which in reality…. as much as I have practiced lately… would have been a disaster!] The only high point was that the rental clubs would have been a full set of brand new PING Pro Series. Oh Well…

We walked around scouting out the area before sundown but night fell too quickly to really see much. We decided instead to grab an early dinner and try to catch up on the NOWaT…
Wroonnngggg... The dining room does not open until 8PM so I guess its time to head for the bar. [All together now....Awwwwwwwww]

We were on our second round of drinks when I noticed a sign-song version of English ordering a Gin and tonic, the sound of which can only mean “The Irish are about. The ever-gregarious Chuckie took the opportunity to make some inane comment, which garnered a chuckle from the Irishman who proceeded to introduce himself as John McGirr and promptly joined us. “This”, as the line from Casablanca goes, “might just be the start of a beautiful friendship”. We exchanged tidbits of information with each other about the whys and wherefores of our each being in the bar at the Parador El Saler. [We all know why Chuck and Illy were there] John was meeting his son, an IT recruiter who was flying in from Brussels for a few days of golf and relaxation. John called it the “annual bonding thing.” John was a retired civil servant who had spent his last 13 years in London and was convinced he had lost his Irish accent, since he had been there so long. We assured him that the lilt was still in his lyric. We proceeded to round 3 by the time his son Decton arrived. He grabbed the key from dad and rushed off for a quick shower before re-joining us for round 4.

By now, after a few healthy belts of scotch [these bartenders do NOT have a light touch] the more he chatted with the boys from the Emerald Isle, the more Chucky's ‘musical ear’ kicked in and he was unconsciously picking up an Irish accent. [Illy found this quite humorous and did her best to keep from giggling out loud.] Deciding that it was way past time for dinner, we all headed toward the dining room and we were promptly seated.

From here it gets a little foggy. I vaguely recall a “zuppa de clam” Valencia style with quite a flavorful broth. There was some nice wine. I believe Decton and I shared paella for two – which was a tad burnt and otherwise unremarkable. Illy and John both had salads for appetizers and some type of fish dish also not quite what was expected for a club of this caliber. Then there was Irish coffee, after dinner brandy’s...etc. Throughout the meal there were lively discussions on all subjects from recruiting war stories to the current political atmosphere in the world today. We were enjoying John and Decton’s company thoroughly. John had remarked that he had a tee-time for 12-noon and insisted that I join them. He assured us that the caddy master could arrange the schedule for all to play in the morning. We realized all of a sudden that we were the only ones left in the dining room. The staff had also disappeared. I vaguely recall some issue about getting the bill split, and my forgetting what room we were in, [I gave the waiter the room number of the Parador in Toledo.] Apparently it got worked out as the proper charges was reflected on the bill the next morning]

We bid our newfound friends a good rest and promised that we would see them in the morning. Once back in the room I started the NOWAT from Sevilla but as the alcohol kicked in – I was ready to zonk out.

Ciao 4 Now
Chuck and the totally toasted but pleaseantly sleeping Cuban Lady