My friends were married in early fall in Granada, Spain. September boasts very warm temperatures in the south and other friends, who also attended the wedding, and I decided to head to the coast after the celebrations had come to an end. We chose Nerja for our brief beach getaway based solely on photos we had seen online. It looked pretty and that’s all we really cared about. We spent our days relaxing at one of Nerja’s many beaches and one evening at a very poor quality flamenco show, about which we were disappointed, but we hadn’t come to Nerja for flamenco. After a few days, my friends set off to begin the Way of St. James, a pilgrimage across northern Spain, and I stayed on in Nerja alone.
Exploring Nerja's Beaches and Caletas
A pretty little beach in Nerja is the Calahonda. You have to walk down some stairs from the town to get to the beach, but it is nicely protected by the rocky outcrops that extend along the coast. A few fishing boats still rest on the beach, and there is even a small “house” built into the rock (whether it is used as a house, I could not say). There are lounge chairs set up for people to rent, but I decided to explore a little farther along the coast where I knew there were some small caletas, or coves, with fewer people.
I didn’t have to venture far to find exactly what I was looking for – a small cove with as few other people as possible. In fact, I was lucky, or so I thought at the time. There was only one other person using the cove and he wasn’t even on the beach. He had left his towel and other belongings on the small stretch of sand between two enormous rocky formations that jutted out into the sea. He was floating quite far from shore, completely naked on an inflatable. I decided this was the perfect place for limited human interactions and set down my bag and towel, getting comfortable in my newly discovered, secluded location.
The Considerate Thief and the Nude Wingman
I’m more of a water person than a beach person, and it wasn’t long before I was out swimming, a good distance from the naked guy on his inflatable. The water was perfect. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and the views offered by Nerja’s incredible coastline, when I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. It was the naked man waving frantically at me. Of course, I immediately panicked, knowing that there had been many jellyfish sightings since our arrival in Nerja. As hard as I peered into the dark waters, I could see nothing. Then I realized the man was pointing at the beach and I caught a glimpse of another man running off with my beach bag. Having had a few things stolen from me on past trips, I wasn’t about to let this slide. Accompanied by my now wingman, I rushed out of the water, only to find the thief had disappeared. My nude wingman, now fully exposed on the beach, indicated, in I’m not sure what language, that the thief had gone up the stairs carved into the rock.
As my nude friend wrapped a towel around his waist, I ran off up the stairs, dripping wet and tiptoeing as carefully as I could to avoid the broken glass that littered the path. When I reached the top of the stairs and looked around, I realized my efforts would be fruitless. The thief was nowhere to be seen, and I would not have been able to pursue him without tearing the soles of my feet to shreds on the rocks, glass, and cactus spines that were everywhere on the path. Defeated, I returned to the beach knowing that the thief had stolen my brand new cell phone and the keys to my rental apartment. I was going to have to be creative to find a way back into my accommodation, as I would need to contact the landlord.
Arriving back on the beach, my sidekick had a pleasant surprise for me – the thief had thrown everything he didn’t want back onto the beach from the rocks above. This included my keys to the apartment. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the man for alerting me to the theft in the first place. We realized quickly our common language was English, as he was from Poland and didn’t speak much Spanish.
A Visit to the Guardia Civil
My new friend and I had a brief laugh over the incident and then I headed off to report my stolen phone and money (the only things the thief kept). I knew where the office of the Guardia Civil, the rural police in Spain, was located and I went directly there. In order to keep my phone number, the phone had to be reported as stolen so that a duplicate SIM card could be issued by my network provider. The officer I spoke to was impressed by my Spanish and I was unimpressed by his nonchalance. Couldn’t he track my phone and catch this guy, I asked. No, all they would do was give me my police report and send me on my way. No wonder petty thievery runs rampant in touristy locations. The thieves know very well the police won’t even look for them.
Thankful the thief had done me the favour of returning my keys, I left the police station. I wouldn’t have to beg the use of internet and a phone to get in touch with the landlord. The culprit did, however, make off with 10 euros (I never take much money to the beach) and my brand new, first-ever Spanish smartphone (I had always had a basic Nokia until that trip).
Bumping Into My New Friend
After purchasing a new smartphone and drowning my sorrows in the best croissants I’ve ever eaten, from the Panadería Salvador if I remember correctly, I walked the long distance to Nerja’s largest beach, the Burriana. On the way, I bumped into my friend from the day before. Though fully clothed, it was easy to recognize his blonde hair and tanned face. We chatted for a few minutes. He was travelling around Europe selling hippie jewelry on the street to fund the adventure. I guessed he was a bit younger than I was at the time. He was one of many who slept on the beach at night – a fact the police officer did not believe when I told him. According to him, people most certainly did not sleep on the beach at night.
Leaving my friend to sell his wares, I moved on to Nerja’s newer district. Burriana was not nearly as attractive as the Calahonda, and it’s exposed location meant the waves were significantly larger. I went swimming anyway, attaching my keys to my bathing suit and keeping my eye on my bag on the beach. Though nobody stole my belongings this time, a particularly large wave knocked me down as I was exiting the water, filling my bathing suit with an uncomfortable quantity of sand. I had no choice but to get back in the water, rinse the sand away, and make an effort to get out of the water before another wave could take me down. It was a rather unfortunate end to what, at the beginning, had been a very promising and relaxing beach vacation. Oh well, it was time to leave for a biological anthropology conference in England, anyway.
haha! Love this, what a great story!
Thanks!