From a flight of steps, among summer flowers and gullies, you reach an enchanting, wild place. Cava is the meltin' pot of youth culture: until thirteen o'clock it is sparsely frequented and is an intimate encounter with the blue. Free beach, few umbrellas, rocks dotting the views.
It is the sand of loves, of the red sunset of thoughts, of the red ardor of balls and rackets constantly scanning time. It fully expresses the Forian flavor, the improvisation of a green tuff that becomes a dip in the green.
