Nothing Else Can Save Me, S.O.S.

The Dowager Duchess told me she was hugely relieved to read that I was too heavy for the bungee trampoline (see preceding post). But, despite my mother’s relief, I have been considering other local options for risking life and limb. (I’m not, however, known for being much of a daredevil, so don’t expect anything to come of this fantasy.) As a result, I have also been looking into what protections (rescue measures) Fuengirola has in place for idiots, I mean people who take physical risks.

Fuengirola has new lifeguard stands. Since most of the beach is flat and the sea is usually calm, there are only a few placed in strategic locations — where the beach curves or where the marina completely blocks the view, for example. So, a number of lifeguards walk the 7-km (5-mile) shoreline throughout the day. The lifeguards who staff the stands wear red “SOS” T-shirts or sweatshirts. The ones who walk the beach are clad differently but, unlike “Aussie lifeguards” (who I’m led to believe wear nothing but skimpy swimsuits — and those always tucked into their butt cracks), Fuengirola lifeguards wear dark blue board shorts and day-glo lime T-shirts (official Fuengirola logo included) so they can be easily found on the beach. And they of course carry torpedo buoys (those orange rescue floats).

THE LIFEGUARD IS THE ONE IN THE DAY-GLO T-SHIRT. (HARD TO TELL, I KNOW.)
THE FIRST GUARD STUCK AROUND TO MONITOR NEARBY SWIMMERS. HIS COLLEAGUE PATROLLED.
(I WAS PLEASED TO NOTE THAT NEITHER OF THEM OGLED THE TOPLESS BEAUTIES ON THE BEACH.)

The lifeguards are all very pleasant and they’re also always presentable. I’ve been taking photos over the last few days, from the terrace and from the beach. One of the lifeguards (pictured) did roll up his shorts, but that seems to be as far as they go. I hear the Aussie lifeguards put on quite a show; I wonder if that results in more people needing to be “saved.”

LEFT: A FUENGIROLA LIFEGUARD HEADING ALONG THE SHORE.
RIGHT: AN AUSSIE LIFEGUARD ON VACATION?

Coming Soon: My risky options.

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

16 thoughts on “Nothing Else Can Save Me, S.O.S.”

  1. Did ABBA ever record a bad song? The answer is "Well, hardly ever".
    They should provide the perfect background while you search out inspiration for your upcoming feat of derring-do.

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