Horror in Torre

Back to the city today, with a quick detour to Torre Golf Resort (we had been warned off this area but curiosity got the better of us). We have become expectant of losing our way now and managed to find yet another unpaved road to squeeze through. Mrs Garmin completely clueless, shouting “recalculating, recalculating, recalculating!” at us as we travelled miles up a gravel path. “Hmm, do you think this is right, darling? I wonder if all the residents of this golf resort have to travel up here. Is there another entrance?” Slowly bumping up the road and we spot a yellow car parked at the side containing several men and one slightly wobbly man clambering into the vehicle. “Oh my God, quick, let’s turn around! Honey, what do we do?! I have to turn around, who is that?!” Five seconds later I was in a James Bond movie. Sadly our car is not as robust as a Land Rover and yet we raced back to the main road, ignoring the giant rocks as we bounced over them (praise the Lord for seatbelts) and mother spinning her head back; “ARE THEY FOLLOWING US OMG THEY’RE DEFINITELY CHASING US HELP!”

Escaped possible brutal torture and finally found ourselves in the Sims. Torre Golf Resort was frighteningly doll-like; in the middle of nowhere (our worst fear) and based entirely on a computer game. Separate entrances for visitors and residents (a little snooty) and precisely cut hedges lined every street. It was a maze. Every house the same, white villas with wooden fences and cars in every drive (the occasional jet ski taking a car’s place), sprinklers, children on bikes. It does indeed sound very Desperate Housewives but unfortunately it was more a cross between The Stepford Wives and Village of the Damned. “LOCK THE DOORS! We are never, ever coming back here again!”