watch your head as you pass through that arch. it was made for
Spanish. and they are little people.
havebloodwilltravel welcomes you once again to another semi-coherent
voyage of random proportions. don't bother strapping yourselves in.
you're bound to fall out anyway. but that's part of the fun, right?
with my tongue firmly planted between my teeth on every "s", and ready
to rrolll on all the requisite rrrr's, i slithered my way down the
east coast of Spain riding a wave of olive oil. very tasty olive oil,
i might add. from cafe in the sun served by a quite drunk Wo-Man at
11am who would have been terrifying if heshe wasn't so damned
hilarious, to Bimbo bread, little doors, giggling delight at Gaudi
concoctions, olive oil on everything (yes, everything), orgasmic
oranges, free Tapas, "new" music straight from the 80's (have you
heard of this thing called "hard rock"?), a hostel run by an
Andalucian Swede replete with Ikea showercurtains, the exquisite
delicacy of the Alhambra, the dominance of the Catedral de Sevilla and
all its glittering gold (wonder where that came from, Cristobal
Colon...?) and snow-covered olive groves in the Sierra Nevada: This
is eSpain. Brought to you by the letter S. and E, of course.
i was all ready to stroll into Morocco, when what did i find in my hot
little hands but a topographic map of the Sierra de Grazelema. how
convenient. so off i sauntered through the craggy mountains in the
south of eSpain for a few days. the velcro rocks turned to
razorblades, superlative views of the Sierra de Grazelema came into
view, studded with the dainty white-washed spanish mountains villages
drawn from an era of Arab residence, and i got excited. then
everything turned to mud and i got reh-heeallly excited.
fittingly, my time in spain has been like a tasty plate of tapas to
the trip ahead of me. i have not yet managed to make it on time to any
bus that i have deliberately aimed at. a perfect start to a Wend
across the globe, methinks.
hasta pronto
hugs and love from espain.
joe
