Today’s guest blog post is from Theresa, who can usually be found blogging about life in Pamplona and beyond at her blog The Rain in Spain.

Mi Andalucí­a

We usually spend our summer holiday with my parents-in-law in La Antilla, which is a small beach town near Lepe, Huelva. Incidentally, Lepe is the place that most Spanish jokes are about; the Americans joke about the Polish and the English about the Irish, but Spaniards joke about Leperos. The funny thing is that the Leperos don’t seem to mind their own countrymen poking fun at them, they take it well, after all, it’s all in good fun. You can even find books of jokes about Lepe in the souvenir shops…just another example of "Spain is different”.

Anyway, this year we’re picking up and heading north to visit France, Belgium and Holland. I’m sure the road will be filled with adventures and lots of interesting sights, but I will miss our typically Spanish vacation on the beach. I’ll miss the leisurely lunches, followed by coffee, canasta, and lazy conversations on the veranda. I can close my eyes and feel the warm air on my skin, and hear the flapping of the laundry hung out to bleach in the sun. The bright colors of the hibiscus and bougainvilleas that grow like weeds everywhere come into my mind; the days seem endless, filled with the promise of something special, even though nothing exciting occurs.

Maybe the afternoon will bring a trip on the ferry over to Portugal to spend the afternoon in Vila Real de Santo António, with the mandatory stop to pick up some towels along the way. Or perhaps we’ll just take a walk to La Antilla’s main street and browse the mini-bazaar that is set up each evening. I love to linger in front of the stands with Moroccan beaded shoes and colorful tunics, while my children make a beeline for the displays of cheap toys, laid out on tarps, begging me to buy them a tamagotchi or a box of play makeup. After that we might sit on a terrace and have a beer, and watch the people go by, or just stroll along and enjoy being part of the "bulla” (hustle and bustle) that makes up any Spanish crowd.

I will miss our mornings on the beach; right now I can almost feel the hot sand slipping through my fingers as I listen to the murmurs of conversation around me. The Sevillanos that come to spend the day provide no end of diversion; they show up with the whole family in tow, all the way down to the grandmother with her abanico going at full speed, trying to ward off the heat. They set up awnings, unfold their folding tables and pull out a load of food, enough to feed an army, complete with the omnipresent potato omelet. I watch the children through my half closed eyes, as they run from the shore to the spot where their families have set up camp, kicking up sand in their enthusiasm, oblivious to those around them, until someone yells, "Niño, estate quieto ya!”. I can hear the shouts of the vendors as they weave their way through the crowd, pulling an ice chest fixed to a trolley through the sand, "A la rica patata! Oiga! Tengo la coca-cola, la fanta, la servesita fresca ! Oiga!” This mingles with the sound of the summer’s top hit blaring out of the nearest chiringuito’s loudspeakers….

It’s all a part of the sights and sounds of the beach in summer, and after fourteen years it’s become a part of me too -This is "mi Andalucí­a”. Even the Tapicero Amigo, who drives his van through the streets offering to reupholster your furniture, has become endearing to me. We get a good laugh out of his recording that says his specialty is discotheques and that he has "eskay” (vinyl) - Does he think we’re still in the 70s? I’ll even miss the mosquitoes and the noisy motorbikes as they buzz through the streets…Okay, no, I won’t miss that.

Remember that you can read more from Theresa at her blog The Rain in Spain.