Jaca to Santiago on foot . . . Santiago to Granada to Albox by bus . . . changes gradual on foot and remarkable by bus . . . Galicia, familiarly Gallic . . . Andalusia more Moorish . . . too soon to comment on the character of the people . . . and perilous too, interplay of commonalities and difference a delicate dance . . . national, regional, class, gender, generational stereotypes, a fascinating field to mine for material . . . a minefield . . .
Madrid, I missed, except for an hour and a half between buses. Too big for me. City energy is different. I lived 15 years in London when I was young and tuned into that energy, drove red buses through the centre, played red politics, regularly visited Highbury to watch Arsenal in their red and white shirts, their 1-0 wins . . . boring, boring Arsenal they called them. Before Wenger arrived to entertain the crowd. When I went, the fans made their own entertainment, with witty songs, banter with visitors, occasional warfare.
This acceleration south was not in the plan, inasmuch as there was a plan. I was walking on to the Atlantic, south to Ourense for Helpx English teaching, on to Portugal. Chelo in Ourense postponed, having found a teacher for January, Maureen in Albox offered a couple of weeks in Andalusia. It felt right.
More walking in Spain and elsewhere is more than likely. I know now what is possible and what is enough.
For now, let's experience a little of life amongst the expats . . .
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