

Meanwhile I rented a brown bike (only joking, it was blue) for the morning. The bike could not be taken outside of the stalag, so I headed through another golfer-less golf course* towards the ‘turtle sanctuary’. The sanctuary, which is (you guessed it) a brown wooden shed surrounded by a few signs and bits of wood, does not open until May, June and July when the turtles return to these shores. I sat for almost an hour on a shady and wonderfully desolate section of Bunot beach.
Two American women appeared from a track in the dense vegetation having walked from the concentration camp in the opposite direction. One of them had few kind words for their resort – ‘a waste of four days of my life’. I think I will borrow that statement.

In the afternoon we found two (brown painted) sunbeds and enjoyed a few hours of dappled shade near a formerly white lady who, like the rest of the stationary items in the resort, now had dark brown leathery skin like an old car-boot sale handbag.
Once again, the outside Chinese restaurant saved the day.
*The two courses have around 3000 players in a year = 8.2 persons a day.
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