Snapshot: A second honeymoon and a trip back in time

My latest article published in the guardian this week... (http://tinyurl.com/q35sqkt)

Snapshot: A second honeymoon and a trip back in time

It is 1955. I am 20, living in south London, a dental nurse, with my wedding in view to David, 22, fresh out of university. We had met when I was 16. He was shy and kind, dark and good-looking.

I see a tiny advertisement. “Two weeks in Spain, Portbou by train, full board – £29.” Package deal holidays have just started. Inspiration … our honeymoon is just possible.

I ring Thomas Cook’s to check. “Portbou? There’s nothing there, just a border railway station on the coast.”

Newly married – I had hired my wedding dress, shoes and veil – we are en route for Spain. It’s a long journey and I sleep lying across David’s lap. We arrive early morning. We descend endless steps to the sleepy little town. It’s April, sunny but rather chilly. Ahead, the sea glitters.

We find our small family-run hotel and are shown our whitewashed room with handbasin and cold water. Food is brought by Isidro, the fresh-faced, handsome 17-year-old son of the house. We realise we’re a novelty. He tentatively tries out his few English phrases.

My shorts cause some consternation in the police station opposite. We remember that this is Franco’s Spain. I have no idea of local conventions. Sunbathing on the rocky beach, we get to meet three local lads, students. We try French, mime and laugh together. Whenever we go off on the train, they seem to reappear on our return.

Sixty years later, David amazes me. “How about retracing our honeymoon to Spain? We could do it all by train again.” Wow, do you think we could meet up with Isidro?”

A week later, I’ve made inquiries and, yes, Isidro should be around.

We decide to stop off in Paris and Barcelona, and plans are made.

April comes and we arrive in Portbou, which is hardly changed. Our hotel has a note for us from Isidro. He will come to meet us at 6pm.

At last, in comes a dapper man, with a head of silver hair. Yes, he has clear memories of us. We take him for a meal and talk endlessly. At 20, he had studied art in Paris, and acted. Later, I find him in some amateur films on YouTube. He has great presence.

We give him enlarged photos we took 60 years ago of him with his parents outside the hotel. The saplings lining the street at that time are now 20ft high and luxuriant. David and I have eight adult grandchildren.

Dorothea Conti

twitter: @dorotheaconti