30 09 07

Awoke to a collapsing bed
excess pounds
a bit fuggy from the grappa
A quiet dutch breakfast

We decide to take the cars out for a spin

Say goodbyes and then out into the hills, Jordie’s MG is nice to follow, he drives fast
good bends on the mountain roads
I could do more of this

Have a coffee in a town near Manrissa
These are good people
Jordie gives me a good handshake and says drop by anytime.
That's good to know
Talks of a classic car trip to Sicilia - ahh Sicilia!

Now I am in the dry dust of Spain, the long haul across the neck of Espania.
This is a hard slog after so many miles
but the journey is so rewarding
I am skimming across the top of a country I want to follow down south
another dream of a place that seems familiar but illusive.
Zaragoza and the flat rocked plains.
Rioja cools and clouds gather.
Haro
Towards the mountains it rains - hood up and racing into the twilight
Cosy on the N232 that rolls then twists towards the mountains of Cantabria.
A break of orange light beyond the mountains, through the rain
As before the realisation that I have been ascending on a long plateaux all day.
I’m still impressed by the difference you get when you hit Cantabria
Approaching from the south
An edge
The land falling away
The road descending
curving
hairpining
falling through the folds of hills

out from the dark
a poor young cow has been hit by a car
lies bleeding and moaning in the road
blood spilling from its flanks
this is sad
this is awful

Drive in the rain to find Santona
feeling my way through the neon
trying to remember
I find the hotel and they have a room

A hot bath to wash the damp dust of of all those miles


The place is full of elderly retired English - coach party
the gates of reality

I sit in the bar and eat my paella and drink my cava trying not to be here
hanging on to out there
a kind of celebration
I need to find a suitable place to round of this journey
this hotel is ok but its not it
Hotels are strange places - welcoming yet cold and precise.


somewhere back
in memory
falling away south
out in the hills
melancholy
near a twist and quiet

Today at the chapel in Fontarnau there was a small anti room
an intimate alter
personal
religous
statues
a small wooden cabinet alter
a bottle of wine
a jug with a bowl
a cigarette lighter
motive offerings
Religion is like a ghost to me

Paella is excess, quite good, a bit runny and with peas.
But at the end of it, besides the Englaize talking of home,
its the fact I don’t fit in the chairs.

Surf rolling at night from the north