Written by Sonia Dawson VV (then Sonia Bloy) who in her early 30s moved to Playamar in Torremolinos with her husband, two daughters and young son (me). The year was 1974, and Spain’s Francisco Franco was 12 months away from his death. The Costa del Sol had already established itself as Europe’s favourite package holiday destination.
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Wild dogs and ants in 1970s Torremolinos. We lived in the Playamar tower at the front on the left. |
Large packs of wild stray dogs were a constant menace not too far from the existing hotels, apartments and villas; anybody going out for walks at dusk was in danger of being attacked by these really wild hungry beasts, more like wolves than dogs.
Villas were still very primitive with wild gardens and most of times invaded regularly by swarms of ants, apartment developments, like Playamar, were beginning to fill up, and some bars and small restaurants started to appear on the beach and coastal road.
Early in the mornings small fishing vessels would get to the beaches near apartments and offer their fresh produce still jumping alive.
There was a sense of tranquility about the place, although in certain areas the pace was picking up with groups of tourists exploring the main streets shops.
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| Alfredo, Playamar (Torremolinos) 1974 |
Unfortunately, the availability of inexpensive alcoholic drinks tempted many older foreigners to become addicted.
Other nationalities were slowly moving in, mainly Germans, and Americans couples with young families exiles from the violent areas of Florida and New York.
The hotels started seeing a flow of package tours from Finland and Germany, which often arrived already drunk from their flights and never sobered up until their return home.
Back then it was a charming little place, with a balance of modern, friendly, positive and still wild.
I lived in Playamar from '72 to '75 and spent the summers of '77 and '78 there as well during my 'teens. I remember Club Intersport used to organise sports activities for the hotel guests and my friends and I taking advantage and joining in volley ball, water polo and swimming races.
ReplyDeleteYou might remember Bob Reid the swimming teacher (blonde hair, big muscles).
The tennis player Jennifer Capriati spent her early years there, at the age of 5 or 6 she was playing/training attracting a lot of attention.
Very nice tale by Sonia. I am Bob Reed, the ex-swim 'Profe'. While I spent 8 summers in Torremolinos, I actually lived one summer in the same tower as the Dawsons---6th floor, if I am remembering correctly. I had a one bedroom apartment. I know most apartments in Playamar were 2 or three bedrooms. There was a gay couple of gentlemen living next door to me. We would nod or smile when we passed each other. One day the "Boys" asked if they could come in and have a look at my apartment, as they were thinking of perhaps purchasing it and adding the space to their apartment. They were very cordial, looked around and left. Eventually, I went back to the States for the winter 77/78, I think. When I returned in the Spring, I was on my way to Saudi Arabia to work for Bechtal, but I arranged a stop over in Torremolinos just to say Hi to friends. I learned that during the winter the "Boys" apparently invited some fellow they had met back to their apartment. Things went wrong and the fellow had attacked and killed them both with a knife. The fight had spilled out into the hall where the elevators were located and if any of you remember how loud and full of echos that space was, the fighting and screams must have been horrible. I often think that if I had been there at the time, I certainly would have stuck my head out to see what was going on. At the time I was told the story, no one had been arrested in the murders. Not all the wild dogs were on the beach!
DeleteEventually, I returned to Tucson, AZ, married and had three children. My oldest son----who looks kind of as I did when I worked in Playamar---long Blond hair, muscles, etc. now plays for the NFL, Houston Texans.
So, one day during the top of the summer tourist rush, I was taking a break from lessons and walked down to the beach bar, Las Barcas. There had been a recent rash of break ins in Playamar, apparently from robbers stepping over from one balcony of a vacant apartment to the next.
DeleteNowadays the balconies are mostly all closed in, but then they were all open. As I walked back to the pool----Sunday crowd cramming the beach and the carretera, radios blaring, I looked up to Building #1. There was this younger looking man---teen, white T-shirt, levy's---standing on one railing on about the 10th floor and looking like he was about to step over to the Apt next door. I stood there for a minute watching him, as I thought if he stepped over, I would report it to security. Being Sunday, many of the residents, including managers of the home owners association were at the pool---like Sr. Perro-Blanco (I think) who had some young daughters that some of you 80's guys might remember.
Anyway, as I stood there peering upwards, the kid on the balcony looked down, noticed me and stepped back onto his "own" balcony. I thought that this kid was up to no good so I stepped a little East under the cover of a palm and continued to watch.
I didn't have to wait long, maybe 5 minutes, when the kid was again up on the balcony---now I'm peering between palm fronds. I watched him for a second or two, and then to my horror, he simply steps of into space!
My view of the last part of his fall was obscured, but I watched him part of the way down and then heard the THUMP of his hitting the ground. I walked quickly back to the pool and found Sr. Perro-Blanco and told him what I had witnessed. He and I ran towards Building 1, but nothing seemed changed, the cars were still bumper to bumper, the throngs of tourists were not crowding around, and everything seemed as before. Sr. PB asked me, "Bob, are you sure of what you saw?" And, indeed, I was unsure for an instant. Then we saw two kids about 6 years old, headed from where the scene would have been to the pool with elbows pumping and eyes about as big as the holes in donuts.
The child who had jumped lay crumpled on the grass beneath the building.. I looked briefly, and saw no really gross damage, but his levy's were all distended with the force of the landing. He was later pronounced dead.
I talked to kids who lived in his tower, and those who knew him. They said he was a solitary sort, who had done poorly in school----Sunnyview?---and felt depressed by it. They said he sat a lot under his building on the grass and spoke to no one.
Oh Sonia & 42inblue I have just discovered your blog & comments and I wanted you know I have enjoyed reading all the blogs about Torremolinos! I visited Torremolinos in the spring of 1983 and we stayed right there on the beach at a 100 year old hotel, of which I can not recall the name...it had a black Roth iron elevator that took us to our floor...the British loved that hotel, there was a lovely pool outside the breakfast dining area, with steps that took us down the the shore & beaches of the Mediterranean Sea! We spent our days on the beach after an amazing continental breakfast at the hotel, we toured the Alhambra, saw Picasso's home and bought leather and Llardo pieces to bring back to America - Minnesota specifically! I still have the memories and treasures to remind me of my 2 weeks in Spain! Nightlife was great, dinner stating at 9 PM on rooftops and sidewalk cafes, dancing and drinking until the early hours...a favorite place had a huge glass wall, behind which a floor to ceiling fish bowl with fish swimming...I was always a little scared that that wall might burst! I too had an early life experience with discovering death...my elderly neighbor used to let me join him in his morning gardening and as a treat before I went home we would share a snicker candy bar...well on this one nice summer day I stopped over, but could not find Hank in his garden, so I knocked on the house door & spoke to his wife, Annie. She said, "Well maybe he went to your uncles gas station for gas". So I walked over to the gas station, but Hank had been there and gone, so home I walked. Again I knocked on the door of the house and Annie said, "Well maybe he is in the garage". So I went to the garage, slid open the door a little and managed to get inside, where I saw Hank sitting in his car...eating OUR snicker bar...a little trickle of chocolate ran done his chin, but he would not talk to me. Angry I ran back into the house telling Annie about the candy bar....she sent me home and told me to not come back, but to tell my dad to "Come right away!" I did, he told me to stay on our front steps and yelled to my Mom to not let me come across the street...I sat there and watched what was unfolding across the street...the police car came, along with the hearse....no one ever mentioned or discussed this with even now 60 years after his suicide by gunshot. Strange how events remain with us. Rusti rfilkowski@outlook.com
DeleteHi. Does any one remember the lion or tiger at the Principe Otoman hotel ? I am the son of the owner and wondered if there were any photos around. His name was Mumu. Regds
ReplyDeleteMurad, check other posts for info on Mumu.
DeleteSadly my mother, the author of this blog post, passed away last month. RIP Sonia
ReplyDeleteSo sorry for your loss, Alfredo.
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