Asphalt Thursday.
Guard dogs wish me luck as I follow tarmac and a mountain is deconstructed. What took millions of years to lay down at the bottom of some ocean (Cretaceous) is being gouged away in a few years: leaving our world behind is easily done. Taking away geology to build roads: the land laid flat, bare: featureless.
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After a fantastic "Menu del Dias" at Bar Nuevo in Orito I am happy to pay €16 for my bed in the Casa del Peregrino. My body really didn't like today. It fought me all the way. This is because I slept unsoundly in Alicante. Market Hostel is neat, but it is loud. Even when I actually hit real Spain ... Away from the Barros and the Gitanes at the end of town it wasn't quite far enough away. Then the huge operation deconstructing a mountain for its asphalt: I suppose it is dead, and is mainly made up from very forgotten ancestors, yet I felt slightly disturbed by this huge operation. Now I am in another valley, but ahead it's clearly still coastal Spain. Tomorrow I can miss out two larger satellite towns and arrive in Petrer. It's all good. I can see the way straight ahead.
Only fifteen days from tomorrow and I am in Toledo. Seems too easy really. If only I can stop drinking Verdejo before the hostess closes up for the afternoon/evening. This was day one as I slowly lose control of my body and know the bed is ready to entomb me!
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