Girona. End of. Pt.2.

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Girona. End of. Pt.2.

Between an alfresco afternoon tapas and wine those boomerang Ray-Ban's returned. Knew I shouldn't fret! If my water bottle could come south of its own motivation I would be complete again! Self made is often ideal, but I am unable to make this of myself. For a tetra prisma Solfrío Gazpacho bring it on! Better than any restaurants made option in the UK. There is a tension between the tomato, bread and olive oil which could make a bleeding Mary?

So I popped the cork on the terminal Cahors vin and the last alcohol to touch my lips prior to the next walking section of the pilgrimage. Then a siesta for fragmentation. Woken by Harley Davidson screaming up Ginesta at 5pm. It drags to have the afternoon under the volcano broken by such an arrogant machine. The other thirds of the vin I hope to share out in equal measurements. Some angry Spanish TV opera plays out over the heads of those of us truly detached from another reality.

I checked the forecast for Puente la Reina and cloudy and 19 is superior to 31 and azure! Could I physically walk under the sky with a sun beating down forever? Some thing obvious says no!

The Italian chef leaves for Spanish Balearics and departs his food deposited for me. So another night al fresco as the sun sinks on the Costas. He's going to sleep in the aeroport awaiting his transit; internal flight a 7am. I wish him success. He managed to sneak a sleep from the helpful receptionists. Quick wander around the block to the Mercat Municipal. Tonight I'll buy my combustibles for yonder venture.

Gosh those blue eyes and another stunning shoulder. If I cared about you-know-what, but it all feels like far too much effort. Not like the last time I left England for an extended period some years ago. I like the beauty but I have resigned myself to being a quite solitary man.

The Altesse 2011 Chardonnay has been consumed and so the episode beginning in Cahors is truly over. Again I am on the pilgrimage; Thursday 15th June, but its memory will sing me to sleep. Edward the English cyclist is still in Girona to enjoy pinchos and cervesa for another week. My last drink today was a fruity shandy in Porcus.

Thank you transitional Girona for not quite disappearing into the tourist vacuum until I have left touching the places twice in my seldom life.

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