Last night I treated myself to a very tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice in lieu of a cocktail as I read Love in the Time of Cholera. So far I have been eating well: turkey and avocado soup, chicken soup with vegetables, both served with freshly baked bread. Perfect for a weary and wary (of food poisoning) traveler. Traveling alone, I'm more aware of how comforting it feels to have someone set down a place setting in front of you. This morning I wandered around town for a couple of hours, checking out some ruined churches, peeking in at mass in three different cathedrals, and finally finding myself at a supermarket where I bought some cereal and snacks for tomorrow. What a relief!
Last night, I ate dinner seated at the bar of a restaurant with live Spanish music. I chose the place because of the music and because I heard more Spanish in the air than English. The owner sat down at the bar next to me with a few of her friends: the middle-aged women were beautiful and looked out of an Almodovar movie. The owner kept slipping behind the bar to refill her tall shot glass of tequila, which she would finish in three large sips between conversation.
The town is very pretty, with single-story buildings lining cobblestone streets. Low tree-covered hills surround the city. As I walked, I eyed the stands selling fresh tortillas and cut fruit, and the stores selling fancy cakes. Many more bakeries and pastry shops than I was expecting.
Now, I am writing this from the comfort of a hammock under a roof on the edge of an inner courtyard. It threatens to rain again!
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