Dusk

Or, the only photo I took today. S went on a mega-walk organised by the local council, which took most of the day. I appreciated a laid-back day; after breakfast on the terrace, I walked down to investigate the Sunday morning market. But it turned out to be a brocante/car boot sale. Am I alone in hating  this kind of market? It just brings home how much junk humans clutter the planet with -- junk that turns out to be unwanted and rotates from one car boot to another. 

So I didn't stay long. I had a wander back via different routes -- at first we thought we'd have difficulty  locating our tucked-away little house in the warren of streets, but actually it's easy: wherever you are, just head upwards and you will get there. Despite this there's no view, other than by leaning over the parapet of the terrace, as it's in a narrow street surrounded by other buildings. The terrace is a lovely secluded place to sit though, enjoying either silence or, as S said, only old-fashioned sounds: children playing, guitars strumming, adults chatting or calling kids in for lunch, church bells ringing, seagulls calling. So I spent a fair bit of time there reading, and also did a load of washing and made some bread.

When S got back and had showered and changed, we decided to walk down to town for an apero before returning to eat the tortilla I prepared earlier. It was a nice warm evening but we succeeded in picking not one but two bars we won't be visiting again: the first because the waiter took the5-euro note S gave him for a 4.50 bill and didn't seem to consider it necessary to return with the change, and the second because it must be the only bar in the whole of Granada province that doesn't give you any kind of tapa with your drink: not even a few crisps. My blip is the view from the promenade just above the first bar.