Last days in Spain

I must have slept in, because I did not get to the beach for awhile. I have lost track of what I have been up to, mostly because my pencil ran out of lead and I have not found the new one, and now the post office woman has accidentally kept my pen.

I know that at some point in the miserable heat yesterday, I bought a skirt, because my shorts were still wet after washing them. I spent part of the evening trying to find gifts for my family, which is no easy task.

But I did meet a late middle aged Spanish man named Jimmie, who owns a little shop across from the post office. It is stuffed with things he has collected across the world: including Native American decorations, metal boxes, clothes, knives, statues and jewelry. There was a large glass display case functioning as his desk, full of amber. Tiny pieces set beautifully, up to huge glittering chunks. He helped me choose two as gifts.

Listening to his stories and opinions about travel, living, and people was fascinating. I just sort of stood there, with wide open eyes, absorbing. By the way, regional differences from before Christopher Columbus still exist in Spain, a sort of inter-regional racism. The durability of something like that over hundreds of years reminded me that his country was far older than mine.

He can't afford to hire people to help him, and I nearly offered to run his shop in exchange for jewelry. But I knew that I couldn't stay.

The unbearable heat helped me to leave Spain without too much pain. I took the bus and train to Malaga airport, and flew to Birmingham, England. The opposite of Nerja, really.