Tales of the Lecrin Valley

A personal view of life in an andalusian village.

Extremely hectic this year.  Having to fight for every booking but house sales getting a little better.

I keep seeing a strange man on the side of the road on my way to work in the mornings, dressed in an Arctic gilet and a Peruvian woolly hat.  And as the temperature is around 80ºF in old money he looks strange in the extreme.  The second day I saw him he was standing at attention with a hookah stood at his side, also at attention, the pipe neatly curled around its brown enamel body.  And a hookah and a half it was, it came halfway up to his waist.  If he had been smoking that all night in the campo, and I suspect he had, and if he had been smoking the valley’s brand of Mary Jane, he was lucky to be standing and not hovering a few feet above the ground.  He didn’t have it this morning but he seemed bent on a mission as he sort of loped along the road.  Will have to ask around.